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Chapter 7
James Knight sat erect, waiting to be called in by his superiors. He knew what the questions would be. He was prepared.
“Colonel Knight.”
James looked up, then stood at attention.
“The general will see you now.”
James followed the secretary down the long corridor to the main conference room. Nothing good ever came out of meetings in this room, he reflected morosely. He’d attended enough of them to know.
Moments later, James was sequestered in the conference room full of secret service and high-ranking military staffers. He recognized several of the faces as Special Forces personnel as well.
“I’ll get right to the point of this meeting Colonel Knight,” General Murphy began. “It’s been brought to our attention that your son,” he paused and glanced at his notes, “Maxwell, is being interviewed by Visions Magazine.”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
General Murphy closed the folder and stared at James over the top of his glasses. “How much does he know, Colonel? And what are the chances of this reporter digging far enough back to uncover your activities?”
James cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “My son knows absolutely nothing about what went on that morning, sir. He was only seventeen years old. As for the reporter, sir, I can’t say what he or she will find out.”
General Murphy pursed his lips, then clasped his hands in front of him. “That, unfortunately, is not good enough, Colonel Knight. We cannot allow even the slightest hint of wrongdoing to be linked to the military.”
“I understand that, General. I…”
“No. I don’t think you do understand, Colonel. We have a situation here. It’s up to you to ensure that your son in no way points this reporter in our direction. Are you aware that the reporter is Hamilton Delaware’s daughter?”
“Yes, sir.” He swallowed back the memories. “She hasn’t remembered anything, sir, or we would have known.”
Murphy waved away his comment. “Do what you must, and we will do the same. Keep me posted.” The general looked down at the files on the table. “You’re dismissed, Colonel.”
James stood at attention and saluted, turned on his heels and strode out. His son was in danger, he realized, the panic building with every step he took down the long, winding corridor. The general’s message was shrouded, but clear. General Murphy would do whatever was necessary to cover the activities under his command. He’d done it once. He’d do it again and again. The Special Forces unit of the Air Force, of which James was still a part, would not be implicated, even if Murphy had to remove everyone with any knowledge of what they’d done.
James returned home feeling as if ten years had been added to his age. He knew what he had to do. Closing the door behind him, he walked into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed his best friend Larry Templeton.
Victoria paced the carpeted living area of her hotel room. It was pure chance that she’d run into Max last night. Her intention was to arrive unannounced at his office. The fact that he’d taken Reese to what had once been their favorite restaurant in L.A. only fueled her anger. She only had three days in L.A. There was no way she could justify her absence from Washington any longer than that. She’d used her business contacts as an excuse for the trip, insisting that she’d be able to get the software manufacturers to mass-produce the new program she’d developed. She knew she had to go back with something. But her mind was on anything but business.
Whether Maxwell took her back or not, she would not sit idly by and let Reese get her privileged little claws into him. She faced herself in the mirror. She’d have to think of something.
Celeste awoke with the sun as she had for most of her adult life. She sat up in her queen-size bed, then sighed heavily. There was no reason to rush. She had nowhere to go and no one to rush to.
Until a year ago, she’d been a practicing RN doing private duty for the Air Force, until her growing illness made even that impossible. At least the money she still received helped. Two thousand dollars arrived in her account like clockwork. It’s funny how twisted life becomes, she lamented. Twenty-eight years ago, she’d been paid to keep a secret. She’d felt outrage, humiliation. But she took it to survive. Thirteen years later, the stakes increased and the secret took on devastating proportions. She’d lived well, but lonely as a result. Now, once again, it was her means of survival.
She turned toward her nightstand to the framed photo of Hamilton Delaware, her one and only love.
With effort she pushed herself up from the bed. “Things could have been so different if you’d only given us a chance. My sister never loved you the way I did. Damn you Hamilton Delaware,” she railed, hot tears of regret streaming down her smooth face of cinnamon. “Damn you for all you’ve done and God help me, I still love you.”
She slipped to her knees and buried her face in the sheets of her bed, her body shaken by the force of her sobs.
The shrill ringing of the phone jarred Reese out of her troubled sleep. For several moments, she thought the sound was only part of the never-ending nightmare that had tortured her throughout the night.
The phone rang again. This time she opened her eyes but quickly shut them against the onslaught of the brilliant sun. With one hand over her eyes, she groped for the phone with the other.
“H-ello?”
“Hey, girl. It’s me Lynnette. I’m at O’Hare on the next flight to L.A. I should be arriving at 5:00 p.m. your time.”
“O-kay,” she mumbled, struggling to get her thoughts to focus.
“Reese,” Lynnette said, suddenly alert to Reese’s disoriented tone. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? I tried calling you all evening.”
“No,” she mumbled. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, Reese. It’s the headaches again, isn’t it? Tell me.”
“Yes,” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “And I don’t know why. I was fine—until—I left Chicago.”
“Something is triggering them. We need to just figure out what it is. What about the nightmares?” She held her breath.
“Those, too,” she admitted in a ragged voice.
“Hang in there, girl. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Thank you, Lynn.”
“It’s gonna be cool. Gotta go, they’re calling my flight.” Lynnette hung up and dashed across the terminal, all the while thinking of her friend who was more like her sister. Growing up as teens, Lynnette had watched in fear, shock, and hurt when Reese would literally collapse under the force of the pain in her head. She’d spent nights with her when out of the blue, Reese would toss and turn, scream unintelligible sounds and practically leap from the bed, eyes wide and unseeing in a cold sweat. Yet she could remember nothing of the dreams.
Lynnette fastened her seatbelt and leaned back. It had been three years since the nightmares had stopped completely. The headaches were manageable. Lynnette closed her eyes. Why now? she wondered.
Chapter 8
Reese finally managed to get out of bed and make it to the bathroom. With great effort, she peeled her damp gown from her weary body.
Reaching for the faucets, she turned on the water full blast and stepped into the pounding shower.
Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry-cloth robe. She checked the clock on the nightstand. 10:30. She should have… “Oh, my God…the car…”
Walking as quickly as her wobbly legs would allow, she sat on the bed and dialed the front desk.
“Yes, Ms. Delaware. A driver was here for you this morning. We rang your room, but received no answer. When you didn’t come down by eight-fifteen he left.”
“I see. Thank you.” Reese squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “Now what am I going to do? Knowing Max he’ll probably assume I’m having a tantrum about last night,” she grumbled aloud. “Arrogant bastard.”
She got up from the bed and began to pace, energy slowly winding its way through her body. “He had a helluva nerve kissing me like that and then acting as if nothing happened. He must take me for…”
The doorbell rang interrupting her diatribe. She stomped across the room fueled by her outrage and flung open the door.
“I got worried when the driver arrived without you.”
Reese’s stomach did a quick somersault while her brain scrambled for organization. “M-ax-well.” At that precise moment, with him standing in front of her, looking for all the world as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Ebony Man Magazine, she had a difficult time trying to remember why she’d been so pissed-off only minutes ago.
“How’s the headache?”
Briefly she frowned in confusion. “How did you…?”
“I could see the beginnings last night.” He paused. “I should have stayed to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry.”
His apology tugged on her heart. “There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” she said softly.
He slipped his hands in the pockets of his cream-colored linen slacks in an effort to keep from reaching out and touching her. His dreams had been filled with her; in front of him, at his side, beneath him. When he finally tore himself away from his erotic dreams, he knew he had to see her.
Maxwell angled his chin in the direction of the interior of the suite. “May I come in?” His dark eyes swept over her and his voice reached down to the bottom of her soul. “I’ll only stay as long as you want me to. I promise.”
A surge of heat engulfed her, while her heart roared so loudly she swore it would burst. “Sure.” She stepped aside and tugged on the belt of her robe. “Come on in.”
Maxwell followed her into the suite, the scent of her freshly bathed body leaving a sensual trail for him to follow.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she suggested, stopping in front of the couch. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” Quickly she disappeared into the bedroom.
“What in the devil am I going to put on?” she mumbled, frantically tearing through her wardrobe. Finally she decided on a lemon-yellow tank top and lime green cotton slacks, with a pair of espadrilles that matched her top. She slipped a slinky gold belt through the loops of her slacks and pushed tiny gold studs through her ears.
A look in the mirror caused her to gasp in horror. Her hair was a wreck, hanging limply around her shoulders from the steam of the shower. She pulled a stiff brush through her hair and quickly twisted it into a neat French roll.
“Not bad,” she nodded to her reflection. Then across her lips she added the barest hint of cinnamon lip gloss, and stroked her lashes with jet black mascara.
“You go, girl,” she said, smiling. Taking a fortifying breath, she reentered the living area.
Maxwell stood up the moment she entered and his heart seemed to shift in his chest. She was so lovely.
“Hope I didn’t take too long.” She made her way across the room, but stopped several feet away from him.
Maxwell crossed the remaining space that separated them. He gave her one long heated look that set her body aglow, and without further waiting swiftly took her into his arms, crushing her against his pulsing body.
His mouth, hungry for the taste of her again, took her lips, briefly savoring their sweetness before dipping into the hot core of her mouth.
Reese wrapped her arms around his hard, lean body, eager to feel the strength of him as he surged against her. She suckled his tongue, committing its texture to memory, allowing it to awaken every nerve ending in her body.
An unstoppable need to know her filled him with the force of a monsoon, building in ferocity. His hands began a slow dance along her back, compelling her to arch closer—tighter. Downward his hands trailed, stroking her round hips, pulling the heart of her desire against the heat of his.
He moaned her name as he pulled away from her lips, only to run his tongue along the tender cords of her neck. Reese trembled and cried out his name, tossing her head back to give him full access.
“I want you, Reese. Here and now. I won’t deny that anymore. But that would be too easy,” he groaned in her ear. He took a step back, looked into her eyes and stroked her face with his fingertip. “You deserve more than just a mating game.” He took a breath. “And I don’t know if I’m capable of giving more than that. Not anymore.”
He set her away from him and turned his back to her.
“Max,” she whispered, trembling from the aftermath of his loving. She reached out to touch his stiff shoulder. “Please don’t turn away from me. Talk to me—please.”
He expelled a short, hollow laugh. “Reese, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
She came around to stand in front of him. “How about if I start first,” she offered.
Maxwell looked into her eyes, expecting some insignificant piece of information. But nothing could have prepared him for her revelation.
Chapter 9
Maxwell stared at Reese for several long moments, attempting to digest what she’d said.
“Pretty unbelievable, huh?”
Maxwell’s eyebrows rose then lowered in silent response. “How could you not remember anything before the accident?” he asked, his voice heavy with bewilderment.
Reese slowly shook her head. “I’ve been to every doctor, neurosurgeon, psychologist and psychiatrist worth their shingle. The general consensus is that there’s nothing physically wrong with me. The headaches and the nightmares are all a manifestation of my intentional attempt to suppress my memory.”
“That’s what the doctors told you?” he sputtered in disbelief.
Reese nodded. “That’s the only explanation any of them could offer. The trauma of the accident was so severe that I’ve completely erased it and my entire life leading up to it.”
Maxwell leaned slightly forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “You have no memory of the first fifteen years of your life?” he asked in astonished wonder.
“None,” she said in a tone of resignation.
Maxwell heaved a sigh. “This is just incredible.” He got up to kneel in front of where she sat. “How do you deal with it?” he asked with such absolute sincerity it tore at her heart.
“Day by day,” she answered softly. “Just day by day.”
He reached out, letting the tip of his index finger trail along the contours of her face. Then gently he asked, “Do you want to remember, Reese—really want to remember?”
Briefly she shut her eyes. “At times, especially when the pain and the nightmares are so bad that I just wish I would die. Then, when things are good, I don’t want to know. If what happened was that horrible, maybe it’s best I never remember.”
“That can’t be better, Reese. And the only way to rid yourself of the pain and the nightmares is to rid yourself of the fear of remembering.”
“Yes, doc,” she teased, chucking him under the chin in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. She popped up from her seat and slowly began to pace. Then she suddenly turned toward him. “What’s most disturbing, at the moment, is that the headaches and the nightmares started again…when I met you.”
Maxwell’s dark eyes widened. “Let me get this straight. You started having these reoccurrences after we met?”
“Yes. At first I thought it was the stress of the trip. But the headaches started getting worse, like I told you. I had to begin taking the prescription medicine again. And then the nightmares.” She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist as a tremor shimmied through her. “I hadn’t suffered from those in close to three years.”
An unnatural sense of foreboding settled in the pit of Maxwell’s belly. There was a reason for everything, he rationalized. But what could the reason be for him to be the catalyst that triggered her ordeal?
“How do you feel right now, right at this moment?”
“Right now I feel fine. The pain is gone and I can’t remember my dreams.”
“Good. Come on. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.
“Where?” she cried doubling her step to keep up with him.
“Just get your purse, or whatever, and let’s go. What you need is a little R&R. And I have just the place.”
