Книга - Driving Force

Driving Force
Elle James


She must trust as stranger in order to survive. Former Marine, Gus Walsh's instincts tell him the unknown woman shadowing him is dangerous in more ways than one. Yet when he discovers that she has no memory of who she is or why someone is hunting her, the pair must team up to find answers. But there's no guarantee they will survive the truth once the dust settles…







With no identity, memory or past...

She must trust a stranger in order to survive.

When a woman is caught shadowing the team leader of Declan’s Defenders, she slams right into the man’s protection detail—and a former elite Force Recon marine. Gus Walsh’s instincts tell him she is dangerous in more ways than one. Yet when he discovers that she is a Jane Doe with no memory of who she is or why someone is hunting her, the pair must team up to find answers. But there’s no guarantee they will survive the truth once the dust settles...


ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net (http://www.ellejames@earthlink.net) or ellejames.com (http://www.ellejames.com)


Also by Elle James (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)

Marine Force Recon

Show of Force

Full Force

One Intrepid SEAL

Two Dauntless Hearts

Three Courageous Words

Four Relentless Days

Five Ways to Surrender

Six Minutes to Midnight

Hot Combat

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Driving Force

Elle James






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-09437-5

DRIVING FORCE

© 2019 Mary Jernigan

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Note to Readers (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)


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I dedicate this book to Sweetpea, a good dog who gave

me lots of love and companionship for thirteen years.

For one so small, you were a big part of my life and

heart. I hope you’re running free and eating all the

good treats across the rainbow bridge. I will miss you

so very much.


Contents

Cover (#uae1f697f-7b1e-5fe5-a43f-50fcff810200)

Back Cover Text (#u0fbef44b-85e7-57f4-ba9b-29235486b362)

About the Author (#uaaa2111c-2125-542e-a752-e03a6bf0199e)

Booklist (#ubabcd318-9ed5-578e-b996-fcb0997ef229)

Title Page (#u67db24b2-66ad-5894-9c22-dd2e77231495)

Copyright (#u012c9752-1d31-5af2-b333-81c1138575a8)

Note to Readers

Dedication (#u6264b884-5d4e-54cd-99dc-4833263e4886)

Chapter One (#u65d3f005-441e-5429-8f4a-8a7a696608f7)

Chapter Two (#u15e93866-6c92-5854-9a62-7a491257a3f9)

Chapter Three (#u0e27391f-e3d2-50fa-97e7-713b8f3a8c3d)

Chapter Four (#u4ce5fcfc-bf33-5684-a81e-b91fa853fbeb)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)


She struggled to surface from the black hole trying to suck her back down. Her head hurt and she could barely open her eyes. Every part of her body ached so badly she began to think death would be a relief. But her heart, buried behind bruised and broken ribs, beat strong, pushing blood through her veins. And with the blood, the desire to live.

Willing her eyes to open, she blinked and gazed through narrow slits at the dirty mud-and-stick wall in front of her. Why couldn’t she open her eyes more? She raised her hand to her face and felt the puffy, blood-crusted skin around her eyes and mouth. When she tried to move her lips, they cracked and warm liquid oozed out onto her chin.

Her fingernails were split, some ripped down to the quick and the backs of her knuckles looked like pounded hamburger meat. Bruises, scratches and cuts covered her arms.

She felt along her torso, wincing when she touched a bruised rib. As she shifted her search lower, her hands shook and she held her breath, feeling for bruises, wondering if she’d been assaulted in other ways. When she felt no tenderness between her legs, she let go of the breath she’d held in a rush of relief.

She pushed into a sitting position and winced at the pain knifing through her head. Running her hand over her scalp, she felt a couple of goose-egg-sized lumps. One behind her left ear, the other at the base of her skull.

A glance around the small, cell-like room gave her little information about where she was. The floor was hard-packed dirt and smelled of urine and feces. She wore a torn shirt and the dark pants women wore beneath their burkas.

Voices outside the rough wooden door made her tense and her body cringe.

She wasn’t sure why she was there, but those voices inspired an automatic response of drawing deep within, preparing for additional beatings and torture.

What she had done to deserve it, she couldn’t remember. Everything about her life was a gaping, useless void.

The door jerked open. A man wearing the camouflage uniform of a Syrian fighter and a black hood covering his head and face stood in the doorway with a Russian AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a steel pipe in his hand.

Her body knew that pipe. Every bruise, every broken rib screamed in pain. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep from letting those screams out. Scrambling across the floor, she moved to the farthest corner of the stinking room and crouched, ready to fight back. “What do you want?” she said, her voice husky, her throat dry.

The man shouted, but strangely, not in Syrian Arabic. He shouted in Russian. “Who are you? Why are you here? Who sent you?”

Her mind easily switched to the Russian language, though she couldn’t remember how she knew it. In her gut, she knew her native language was English. Where had she learned to understand Russian? “I don’t know,” she responded in that language.

“Lies!” the man yelled and started toward her, brandishing the steel rod. “You will tell me who you are or die.”

She bunched her legs beneath her, ready to spring.

Before he made it halfway across the room an explosion sounded so close, the ground shook, the walls swayed and dust filled the air. Another explosion, even closer, shook the building again.

The man cursed, spun and ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Her strength sapped, she slumped against the wall, willing the explosions to hit dead-on where she stood to put her out of her misery. She didn’t think she would live through another beating, which was sure to come, because she didn’t have the answers the man wanted. No matter how hard she tried to think, she couldn’t remember anything beyond waking up in her tiny cell, lying facedown in the dirt.

Another explosion split the air. The wall beside her erupted, caving into the room. She was thrown forward, rubble falling on and around her. Dusty light spilled into the room through a huge hole in the wall.

Pushing the stones, sticks and dirt away from her body, she scrambled to her feet and edged toward the gap. The explosion had destroyed the back of the building in which she’d been incarcerated. No one moved behind it.

Climbing over the rubble, she stuck her head through the hole and looked right and left at a narrow alley down below.

At the end of the alley was a dirt street. Men, covered in dust and carrying weapons, ran along the street, yelling. Some carried others who had been injured in the explosions. The sound of gunfire echoed through the alley and the men threw themselves to the ground.

She ducked back inside the hole, afraid she’d be hit by the bullets. But then she realized she’d rather be shot than take another beating. Instead of waiting around for her attacker to return, she pulled herself through the gap and dropped to the ground. A shout sounded on the street at the other end of the alley. She didn’t wait to find out if the man was shouting at her; she turned the opposite direction and ran.

At the other end of the alley, a canvas-covered truck stood, the back overflowing with some kind of cut vegetation, dried leaves and stalks. With men shouting and brandishing weapons all around her, she wouldn’t last long out in the open. She dove into the back of the truck and buried herself beneath the stems and leaves.

A metal door opened and slammed shut, the truck’s engine roared to life and the vehicle rolled along the street. With no way to see where they were headed, she resigned herself to going along for the ride. Anywhere had to be better than where she’d been.

As she lay beneath the sticks and leaves, she realized they were drying stalks of marijuana, a lucrative crop for Syrian farmers. Where they were taking their crop, she didn’t know. Hopefully, far enough away from the people who’d held her hostage. She touched her wrist where the skin had been rubbed raw, probably from having been tied with abrasive rope. In the meager light penetrating her hiding place, she noticed a tattoo on the underside of her wrist below the raw skin. She pushed the leaves aside to allow more light to shine in on what she recognized as a three-sided Trinity knot. Below the knot were a series of lines and shapes.

The more she tried to decipher the symbols, the more her head ached, and her eyes blurred. The tattoo wouldn’t rub off. Since it was permanent, she should know what the knot and the symbols stood for. No matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn’t.

The rumble of the engine and the rocking motion of the truck lulled her into a fitful sleep, broken up by sudden jolts when the truck encountered a particularly deep pothole.

What felt like hours later, the vehicle rolled into what appeared to be the edge of a town.

If she planned on leaving the truck, she needed to do it before they stopped and found her hiding in the marijuana.

She dug her way out of the sticks and leaves, crawled to the tailgate and peered out between slitted, swollen eyelids.

The truck had slowed at an intersection in a dirty, dingy area of the town. With a dark alley to either side, this might be her only chance to get out unnoticed.

As the truck lurched forward, she rolled over the tailgate, dropped to the ground and ducked into a shadowy alley. With her face bruised and bleeding, she wouldn’t get far without attracting attention. But she had to get away from the truck and figure out where to go from there.

Turning left at the end of a stucco tenement building, she crossed a street and ducked back into a residential area. Between apartment buildings, lines were hung with various items of clothing, including a black abaya cloak. Glancing left, then right, she slowed, then walked up to the clothesline, pulled off the black abaya and walked away as if she owned it.

A shout behind her made her take off running. She turned at the end of the building and shot a glance over her shoulder. An older woman stood beneath the space where the abaya had been. She wore another abaya and shook her fist.

“Sorry,” she murmured, but she had to do something. With no money, no identification and a face full of bruises, she couldn’t afford to be seen or stop to ask for help.

The salty scent of sea air and the cry of gulls gave her hope. If she were at a port town, she might find a way to stow away on a ship. But where should she go? She didn’t know who she was, or where she belonged, but one thing she was very certain about, despite the fact she could understand Syrian Arabic and Russian, was that she was American. If she could get back to America, she’d have a better chance of reconstructing her identity, her health and her life.

Dressed in the abaya, she pulled the hood well over her head to shadow her battered face and wandered through neighborhoods and markets. Her stomach rumbled, the incessant gnawing reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the last meal the guards had fed her in her little prison two days ago. Moldy flat bread and some kind of mashed chickpeas. She’d eaten what she could, not knowing when her next meal might come. She needed to keep up her strength in the event she could escape. And she had.

Walking through the thriving markets of a coastal town, everything seemed surreal after having been in a war-damaged village, trapped in a tiny cell with a dirt floor.

As she walked by a fruit stand in a market, she brushed up against the stand and slipped an orange beneath her black robe. No one noticed. She moved on. When she came to a dried-fruit-and-nuts stand, she palmed some nuts. With her meager fare in her hands, she left the market and found a quiet alley, hunkered down and ate her meal.

Her broken lips burned from the orange juice, but it slid down her throat, so refreshing and good, she didn’t care. The nuts would give her the protein she needed for energy.

What she really wanted was a bath.

Drawn to the water, she walked her way through the town to the coastline, learning as she went that she was in Latakia, Syria, a thriving party town on the eastern Mediterranean Sea. People from all over Syria came to this town to escape the war-torn areas, if only for a few days.

The markets were full of fresh produce and meats, unlike some of the villages where fighting had devastated homes and businesses.

Women dressed in a variety of ways from abayas that covered everything but the eyes to miniskirts and bikinis. No one noticed her or stopped her to ask why her face was swollen and bruised. She kept her head lowered and didn’t make eye contact with anyone else. When she finally made it to the coastline, she followed the beach until it ran into the shipyards where cargo was unloaded for sale in Syria and loaded for export to other countries.

By eavesdropping, she was able to ascertain which ship was headed to the US later that night. All she had to do was stow away on board. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to cross the ocean, so she’d need a stash of food to see her through.

Back out to the markets, she stole a cloth bag and slowly filled it, one item at a time, with fruit, nuts and anything else she could hide beneath her abaya.

At one fruit stand, the proprietor must have seen her palm a pomegranate. He yelled at her in Arabic and grabbed her shoulder.

She side-kicked the man, sending him flying back into a display of oranges. The wooden stand collapsed beneath his weight, scattering the fruit into the walkway.

Not knowing how severe punishment was for stealing in Syria, she ran until she was far enough away, and she was certain no one followed.

With a small collection of food in her bag, she made her way back to the ship sailing later that evening to the US. Containers were being loaded by huge cranes. She found one that she was able to get inside and thought better of it. She could get in but couldn’t secure the door. And if someone else secured it, she’d be locked in until the outer door was opened at the destination. Some containers weren’t unloaded until they reached their final destinations...months later.

A container like that wasn’t worth dying in. She’d have to find another way. The gangway onto the ship was her only other choice, and it was out in the open. She would never make it aboard in an abaya.

Waiting in the shadows of the containers she watched the men going aboard and leaving the ship. Some wore hats to shade their eyes. Others wore uniforms of the ship line or dock workers’ company.

In the late afternoon, some of the men took time to eat dinner. One in particular found a shady spot to open the bag containing his meal. He sat by himself, out of view of the others in his own little patch of shade, seeming grateful for some relief from the baking afternoon sun. He wore a uniform shirt embroidered with the logo of the ship line and a hat emblazoned with the same. As he settled with his dinner, he shed his outer shirt and hat, preferring to sit in the cool spot in a tee, soaked in sweat.

Another man called out for assistance getting a container door shut.

The guy eating his dinner lumbered to his feet, leaving his shirt, hat and food in the shade. He trudged toward the other man, without looking back.

Providence.

She gave a silent prayer of thanks as she sneaked up, took the shirt, hat, chunk of bread and a plastic water bottle, disappearing before the man had a chance to return.

Though the shirt was sweaty and too big for her, it would hide any female assets and help her to look more like a man. She shoved her hair up into the baseball cap and pulled it down over her forehead enough to shadow her swollen eye.

Now, all she had to do was wait for it to get a little darker. Not too long, or they’d pull up the gangway and set sail without her. She had to get back to the US soon. If the people who’d captured her discovered where she was, she would not be safe in Syria.

Shadows lengthened with the sun angling toward the sea. The crane continued loading containers all through the day and into the evening. Men boarded and left the ship.

She waited until there was a gap in people coming and going. Pulling the cap down low over her eyes, she tucked the cloth bag full of food beneath the baggy shirt and walked across the gangway as if she belonged, hoping she appeared to be an older, slightly heavyset man getting back to work aboard the ship.

No one stopped her on the gangway.

Once aboard, she found a stairwell and descended below deck. As she went down, a man came out of a hallway several steps below.

Her heart jumped into her throat as the guy took the steps two at a time. Fortunately, he was in a hurry and ran past her without commenting. She looked away hoping he wouldn’t notice she was a female with a battered face. Once she’d passed him, she let out the breath she’d been holding and hurried downward to the lowest deck she could go. Then she dodged between containers in the hull until she found a dark corner near the back. Hunkering low and pressing her body against a container, she prayed they would finish loading soon and leave port.

She must have fallen asleep while waiting. When she woke, the ship rocked gently beneath her, the rumble of an engine letting her know they were underway.

For more than a week, she rationed her food, sneaked into the galley in the middle of the night and scrounged for food and water. Like a rat lining her nest, she found a blanket and a pillow in a closet near to the crew’s quarters. In the middle of the night, she used the facilities, and though she didn’t feel she could linger long enough for a shower, she did manage to clean up, using a washrag and a towel.

The long journey across the water took ten long days. She filled her days trying to learn more about the ship and where it was going. Remaining undetected became a game she got very good at.

When she ventured out of her dark hole into some light, she studied the tattoo on her wrist, recognizing the squiggly lines as numbers in Hebrew. The more she contemplated them, the more her gut told her they were a set of coordinates.

When the ship finally pulled into port, she’d determined they were docking at one near Norfolk, Virginia.

As soon as she was able to sneak away, she walked into town and bought a T-shirt from a tourist vendor and jeans from a used clothing consignment store, using money she’d pilfered from workers on the ship. She ditched her uniform in a trash can and tugged on the tee and jeans in an alley. From there, she quickly found a library with computers and keyed in the numbers to find the coordinates. She learned the street address and searched county tax records to discover who lived at that street address.

A Charlotte Halverson lived there, and from the satellite street view of the location, the Halverson estate was a veritable fortress. If she wanted to get to Charlotte Halverson, she’d have to scale a wall, fight her way past security and possibly guard dogs. And for what? To tell a woman who likely didn’t know her that she’d found her because of the GPS coordinates tattooed to her wrist?

A quick check on who exactly Charlotte Halverson was didn’t make her feel any better about trespassing on the woman’s property. She was a very wealthy widow, who employed a number of bodyguards, based on the photos of her attending various events in the DC area.

In fact, one news article reported she was scheduled to attend an upcoming charity ball at one of the swanky hotels in DC.

Getting past a stone wall and guard dogs might be extremely difficult, but she damn well could get past the security at a hotel. The event was the next night. That gave her a day and a half to get from Norfolk to DC and find her way into that hotel to get an audience with Ms. Halverson.

She prayed the woman could help her solve the mystery of just who the heck she was.




Chapter Two (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)


“I don’t need more than two bodyguards inside the hotel at the Hope for Children Gala.” Charlotte Halverson, the wealthy widow of a renowned philanthropist, settled a white faux-fur shrug over her shoulders and straightened the diamond necklace around her throat. “The hotel is providing tight security. Apparently, there will be a number of celebrities in attendance for the tenth anniversary of the organization.”

“What does Hope for Children do?” Augustus “Gus” Walsh asked as he fought with the bow tie that matched the tuxedoes Charlie insisted both her bodyguards wear for the event.

“They raise awareness and help combat human trafficking of children.”

Gus was all for putting a stop to selling children into slavery. He’d seen too many atrocities toward children during his deployments as a Force Reconnaissance marine in the Middle East where little girls of six and seven years of age were married off to grown men.

His stomach clenched at the thought of what those little girls endured. But tonight was about glitz and glamour. Yeah, he would be completely out of his element. Give him an M4A1 rifle, camouflage paint and a mission to take out some terrorists and he would be more comfortable. Dressed in a black tuxedo that made him look like a really tall penguin with his face shaved to within an inch of his life, he wasn’t feeling it. And the damned tie...

“Here, let me.” The team’s benefactor, Charlotte Halverson, didn’t ask them to play bodyguard to her very often, but when she did, she wanted them to blend in, not stick out. Thus, the tuxedo at a black-tie event. The older woman tugged and pulled at the bow tie until she was satisfied. Then she patted his cheek with a smile. “You look magnificent.” She turned her smile to the team leader, Declan O’Neill. “Both of you look wonderful. I’ll be the envy of the ball. The gossiping old biddies will be jealous that I have two very handsome men escorting me.” She winked. “We don’t have to tell anyone that you’re my bodyguards. Although, I’m sure they’ll figure that out.” Charlie chuckled. “I haven’t gone to many galas since my husband’s death, but this is one I can’t miss. This organization meant a lot to John. He would want me to continue to support their efforts.”

“We don’t mind going. You’ve done so much for our group we can’t begin to repay you,” Declan said. He hadn’t had any difficulties at all with his tie. He stood straight and tall in his tuxedo like he owned it, though it was rented.

“Oh, shush. You and your men are helping me realize a dream. One my husband had, as well. What you’ve done so far to help others is phenomenal. Declan’s Defenders is exactly what I’d hoped for. I’m just sorry I’m using you for bodyguard duty tonight.”

“Since we aren’t otherwise assigned, we’re glad to do it. Heck, we’re glad to do it anytime.” Declan lifted her hand and stood back. “You look stunning.”

Charlie’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you. We should get going. Arnold is chauffeuring us tonight. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Gus followed Charlie and Declan out of the widow’s mansion to the waiting limousine. Mack Balkman would lead in a dark SUV and Jack Snow would follow to make sure nothing happened on their way to the Mayflower Hotel.

Charlie had already been the target of a kidnapping attempt in DC. Declan had been there when it happened and saved her from being taken. That incident had led to all six of the former Force Recon team being employed, forming Declan’s Defenders.

The timing could not have been better. After being processed out of the marines with dishonorable discharges for disobeying a direct order, they’d been basically unemployable and out on the streets. Charlie had given them jobs and hope.

Gus would do anything for that woman. Including dressing up in a tuxedo to go to a black-tie gala in DC. She’d saved them all from being homeless veterans living on the streets.

Forty minutes later, after navigating traffic into the downtown district, they arrived at the Mayflower and handed off their vehicles to the valet. Gus and Declan would go inside with Charlie, while Mack, Snow and Arnold guarded the outside perimeter.

Gus counted four guards at the entrance to the hotel. A red carpet had been rolled out for the arriving guests. Ahead of them, reporters leaned over the cordon ribbon to snap pictures of a pop rock singing sensation who’d brought her latest boyfriend to the event.

Charlie waited for the young woman and her date to move on before she moved closer.

As before, the reporters leaned over the tape and snapped photos of Charlie, one of the city’s leading benefactors. Gus understood that in DC, Charlie was as much of a celebrity as the singer. She and her husband had given so much to many of the nonprofits and helped hospitals and communities with their generosity.

Gus stood beside her, trying not to blink at every camera flash, watching the crowds for anyone who might pose a threat to his boss.

Behind them, another limousine pulled up. The reporters abandoned Charlie for the latest celebrity sighting.

Finally, they were able to move into the building. Just inside the door stood two more security guards and a woman with an electronic tablet checking names against those on her list.

“Good evening, Mrs. Halverson. We’re so very glad you could make it to the gala this year.” The woman glanced up from her tablet and smiled. She looked from Declan to Gus. “Which one of you is Mr. O’Neill?”

Declan nodded. “I am.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Gus. “And you must be Mr. Walsh.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gus said.

The woman chuckled. “Please, don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gus said again. “Miss.”

She smiled again and backed up a step. “We hope you enjoy the evening, and thank you for supporting the children who need it the most.”

Mrs. Halverson swept past the woman and the guards.

Gus and Declan had to hustle to keep up with her. Once they cleared the spacious foyer, hotel staff directed them into the grand ballroom.

Already, there were hundreds of guests mingling and visiting with each other, all dressed in their finest. Men in black tuxedoes and women wearing sparkling dresses in silver, gold, blue, red and more.

The crush of people made Gus nervous. How were they supposed to keep Charlie safe when any one of the guests could easily get close enough to jab a knife into the widow?

Gus found himself stepping in front of Charlie every time someone approached.

“Gus,” Charlie said. “It’s okay. These people are harmless. They were all screened by the event coordinator. Now, scoot back and let me mingle with the people who paid a lot of money to support the charity. It’s the least I can do to ensure this organization gets the funding needed to help the children.” Charlie marched forward to a group of men and women, smiling and greeting every one of them by name.

Declan touched Gus’s arm. “She should be okay,” he said, though his attention continued to be directed at Charlie and the people surrounding her.

The widow laughed at what someone in the group said. Another man with a black tuxedo and a crooked bow tie approached Charlie.

The hairs on the back of Gus’s neck spiked. He started forward, expecting Declan’s arm to shoot out.

His leader didn’t slow him down a bit. Instead, he stepped out with Gus and swung wide around the man heading for Charlie.

Gus headed straight for the man and clamped a hand on his shoulder.

Declan stepped in front of him at the same time.

The man frowned. “Excuse me—is there something you want?”

“We’re here with Mrs. Halverson,” Declan said.

“Exactly who I wanted to speak with.” The man looked past Declan. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just have a word with her.”

Gus didn’t loosen his hold on the man’s shoulder. “You won’t mind if we check you for weapons, will you?”

The gentleman’s eyes rounded. “What?”

Gus ran his hands down the man’s sides, patting his tuxedo jacket for bulges.

“I beg your pardon.” The guy backed out of Gus’s reach. “I do mind being treated like a criminal.”

“Gus, Declan, what are you doing?” Charlie’s voice sounded behind Declan.

“The man was converging on you at a high rate of speed,” Gus explained. “We’re making sure he isn’t carrying a weapon.”

“Good Lord.” Charlie stepped between Gus and the man. “This is Joseph Morley, the event reporter. He always features me in his account of this gala.” She turned to Joseph. “Please excuse my overzealous bodyguards. They don’t know everyone.”

Morley straightened his jacket and gave Charlie a tight smile. “At least they have your best interests at heart.”

“Yes, they do. I can’t fault them for that.” She gave Declan and Gus each a narrow-eyed glare. “But they can stand back and let me have a little space while we’re here.”

Heat rushed into Gus’s cheeks. How was he supposed to know who was friend and who was foe?

Declan and Gus took the clue and stepped back, allowing Charlie a chance to visit with Morley.

“I don’t like how close everyone is to Charlie,” Gus admitted.

“I know what you mean.” Declan pressed his lips in a tight line. “But we can’t smother her. She’s already angry with us for assaulting the reporter.”

“I didn’t assault him,” Gus said. “I only patted him down.”

Declan’s lips twitched. “Find anything?”

“No,” Gus admitted.

“Then we should just stand back and let Charlie do her thing. As long as we keep an eye on her, she should be all right.”

Gus nodded. “Sounds like a plan that will work for her.”

For the next hour, they followed Charlie around the ballroom as she spoke with everyone, laughed, joked and talked about the need for funds to help keep children from being sold and trafficked in the US as well as abroad.

“Gentlemen, I shall be retiring to the ladies’ room for a few minutes.” She held up her hand. “I will not need your services in that area. Feel free to get a beverage and some of the appetizers. I don’t plan on being here more than another hour.”

Gus clamped down on his tongue to keep from saying thank God. He’d read that the gala started around 6:00 p.m. and didn’t end until well into the wee hours of the morning.

At least Charlie didn’t feel the need to dance into the night. She’d made that clear up front. They’d stay for a couple hours and then head home.

One hour down, one to go.

The patent-leather shoes he’d rented with the tuxedo were chafing at his ankles. He’d love it if he could kick off the shoes and walk barefoot through the crowd.

Gus and Declan followed Charlie through the throng of beautifully dressed people toward the hallway where the facilities were located. They gave her just enough room that she wouldn’t feel crowded but stayed sufficiently close to get to her should someone try to jump her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gus noticed a woman dressed in a long figure-hugging black gown standing near a giant potted tree. She had hair as black and silky as her dress and deep, dark eyes almost as black as her outfit. Striking was the word Gus would use to describe her. But what drew his attention to her was that her gaze never left Charlie. It followed her all the way into the ladies’ room.

“Wanna go for that drink or appetizers while I stay and guard the door?” Declan asked.

“No,” Gus said, his attention on the woman in black.

Declan must have heard something in Gus’s voice. He frowned, glancing around. “Something bothering you?”

“My gut is sending up warning flags,” Gus murmured.

Declan stiffened. “About?”

With barely a lift of his chin, Gus motioned toward the woman in black. “Her.”

“Wow. She screams black widow in that killer dress,” Declan said. “You are talking about the black-haired beauty near the potted tree, right?”

“I am.”

The woman looked left, then right. She spotted Declan and Gus and the slightest frown appeared and then disappeared on her brow.

“Did you see that?” Gus asked. “She frowned when she noticed us watching her.”

“I thought I imagined it, but yes. I saw it.” Declan turned his attention to Gus and smiled. “I’ll pretend we’re having a manly discussion about sports or something while you continue to watch.” His grin broadened, and he spoke a little louder. “How about those Patriots?”

“You know I’m an Alabama fan,” Gus said, also in a conversational volume. In a whisper, he added, “She’s moving.”

“Which way?” Declan asked. “Alabama is college football. The Patriots are a real team.”

“Toward us,” Gus muttered without moving his lips. Then he snorted. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“Yeah. You watch your team. I’ll watch mine.”

The woman in black sailed past them, her head held high, her silky black hair flowing around her shoulders, her chin tilted upward, displaying a long, regal neck.

Damn she was beautiful. But something about her didn’t fit in with the other women in the room. She was thin, but athletic, and she walked with confidence and purpose.

Perhaps it was the purpose that made her different than the other women in the room. Most were content to socialize and mingle. Not the woman in black. She appeared to have something on her mind and was in a hurry to get it off.

“Passing you now,” Gus said, his gaze remaining on the ladies’ restroom as the woman in black walked away.

“Got her in sight,” Declan affirmed. “Appears to be in a hurry.”

“Unlike every other woman in the room.”

“Maybe she forgot to let the dog out at home.”

“Yeah.” Gus relaxed a little, since the woman in black appeared to be leaving and, as such, no longer seemed a threat.

Charlie emerged from the ladies’ room laughing and talking to another guest similar in age to the wealthy widow. When she spotted Gus and Declan, she nodded, letting them know she was okay. Then she walked away with the other woman, rejoining the crowd in the ballroom.

Gus and Declan followed, not too far behind.

Several men came between Charlie, Gus and Declan.

Before Gus or Declan could work their way around the group of men, the woman in black appeared beside Charlie and hooked her elbow in her grip.

“She’s back, and she’s got Charlie,” Gus said to Declan.

Gus shoved his way through the men, without excusing himself. He didn’t have time for pleasantries when someone had Charlie and was leading her toward an exit door.

Caught in the group of men, Declan fell behind.

Trying not to stir up panic, Gus half walked, half ran after the two women who disappeared through the exit door into another part of the grand hotel.

His heart beating faster, Gus gave up trying to keep it cool and broke into a sprint, hitting the exit door hard, just seconds behind the two women.

The woman in black was hustling Charlie toward another door at the end of the hallway, talking in a low tone as they moved.

Charlie skipped to keep up.

Her abductor shot a glance over her shoulder, spotted Gus and glared.

“Stop!” Gus shouted.

The woman didn’t follow his command, just kept moving, dragging Charlie along with her.

Unencumbered by another person, Gus caught up to the two women as they reached the exit door to the outside.

“Gus,” Charlie looked over her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Let go of Mrs. Halverson,” he demanded.

“Not until I have some answers,” she said. “She’s the only one who can help.”

Gus pulled the gun from beneath his jacket and pointed it at the woman. “Let go of Mrs. Halverson.”

The black-haired woman released her hold on Charlie and raised her hands. “I don’t want to hurt her. I need to talk to her.”

“Then set up an appointment when she’s not at an event and when we can properly vet you,” Gus said. “For all we know, you could be a criminal. Perhaps you should come with me and talk to the security guards. Are you even a registered guest?”

The woman’s eyes widened briefly. Then as if a shutter slid down over her face, she became completely expressionless. “No.”

“No, you’re not a guest?”

“No, I won’t go with you to the security guards.” She backed up a step, then another.

“Charlie, get behind me,” Gus warned.

“It’s okay. She said she wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Please, do as I say,” Gus insisted.

Charlie frowned, but moved behind him.

“Now, either you come with me willingly, or my partner and I will take you there unwillingly. Your choice.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.” In a flash, she turned and slammed against the door, pushing it outward enough to slip through and out into the night.

Declan came running down the hallway. “Charlie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but I don’t think that woman is.” Charlie shook her head.

“Stay with Charlie,” Gus said. “I’m going after her.”

“I’ve got her,” Declan said. “Go.”

Gus raced through the door and out into the night. Two guards caught him before he’d gone three steps. They pulled his arms up behind him and disarmed him. “What the hell. Let me go. There’s a woman I need to catch.”

“She said you’d come flying out the door after her,” the guard holding his right arm said.

“She also said you had a gun and you were going to kill her.” The man on the left held his pistol.

“I have a conceal carry license. I’m here as bodyguard to Charlotte Halverson. That woman tried to abduct her. You should have captured her, not me.”

“Right. And I’m Santa Claus.” The guard on the right snickered.

Two men raced around the side of the building and ground to a stop, silhouettes in the darkness.

“Gus?” one of them said. “Did you find her?”

“Mack? Snow?” Gus called out.

“Yeah,” Mack responded. “What’s the problem?”

“She got away, thanks to these guards.”

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot,” said the guard holding Gus’s Glock.

Mack and Snow held up their hands. “Don’t shoot. We’re here as bodyguards to Charlotte Halverson.”

“I told them the same, but they’re not buying it,” Gus said. “Call Declan. Tell him to notify the man in charge of security that their guards are holding up the wrong person.”

The guard holding his arm up between his shoulder blades pushed it up higher.

“Hey, you don’t have to break it,” Gus said. “I’m not fighting you.”

Gus could hear Mack talking to Declan through his headset. A moment later, the radios clipped to the belts of the guards holding him hostage both squawked.

“Peterson, Rawlings, check the identification of the man you’re holding,” the voice said. “If his name is Augustus Walsh, you can release him. He’s here with Charlotte Halverson and needs to get back to her.”

The man holding his arm gave it one last shove up between his shoulder blades before he released it. “Sorry,” he said, though he really didn’t sound sorry at all. “Just doing our jobs.”

“I get it,” Gus said. “I was, too.” He rubbed his sore arm. “If you see that woman again, detain her. She tried to take off with Mrs. Halverson.”

“We will.” The guard holding his weapon handed it back. “No harm, no foul.”

“Yeah.” Gus holstered his Glock and straightened his tuxedo jacket. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to get back to work.”

“By all means.” The guard who’d jacked up his arm waved him by. “You’ll have to go back around to the front of the building. The door you came through doesn’t open from this side.”

Gus took off, jogging. He met up with Mack and Snow.

“Did you see a black-haired woman in a long black dress?”

Mack and Snow both shook their heads.

“If you do, keep an eye on her. She tried to take off with Charlie.” Gus moved past his teammates, hurrying back to the entrance of the hotel. Declan was capable of handling Charlie’s safety on his own, but Gus wanted to be there in case the woman in black returned for a second attempt.




Chapter Three (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)


She should have known Charlotte Halverson would have multiple bodyguards protecting her. A woman of her wealth and status might as well have a target on her back at all times. A person could collect a significant amount of ransom money if he successfully abducted her.

Money wasn’t her goal with the Halverson woman. Answers were worth much more to her. Why did she have those coordinates on her wrist? Why did she have a Trinity-knot tattoo? Why had she been detained and tortured in Syria? Why had she been there in the first place?

More than anything...who was she?

All the effort she’d gone to in order to gain access to the gala had been a bust. All she needed was to talk to the Halverson woman and no one else. At this point, she wasn’t going to risk interaction with a single soul other than Halverson. If the woman’s bodyguard hadn’t been so attentive she might have gotten her alone long enough to figure out the puzzle of her existence. Now she was back to square one. Not even square one. The bodyguards would think she had tried to abscond with the rich widow. They wouldn’t let her anywhere near her now, and she still didn’t know if she could trust anyone other than Halverson.

Once she’d made it past the guards, she’d circled the entire building, counting the number of security personnel on the outside at every entry or exit point. The only reason she’d gotten through the first time was she’d gone in as one of the housekeeping staff, with her dress and shoes tucked beneath the uniform she’d pilfered from the back of a laundry van. She’d helped clean rooms, stating she was new.

Eventually, she slipped out of sight and hid in one of the unoccupied rooms until close to time for the gala to begin. She’d showered, dressed and applied the makeup she’d borrowed from one of the rooms. The shoes had belonged to one of the guests at the hotel. Appropriately dressed, she’d found her way down a staff elevator to the kitchen and from there into the ballroom after a majority of the people had already arrived. She’d mixed and mingled as if she belonged until she’d spotted Charlotte Halverson.

Thankfully, by the time she’d made it to DC, her bruises had faded enough that makeup covered them. The swelling around her eye had all but disappeared.

Now, standing outside the Mayflower Hotel, frustration ate a hole in her gut. The only keys she had to her identity were the tattoo on her wrist and the woman inside, and she was stuck outside. Without a coat, the cool air wrapped around her, raising gooseflesh on her skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the Mayflower Hotel wishing she had one more chance. Just one more chance was all she needed with Charlotte Halverson.






THE WOMAN IN the black dress haunted Gus. All the way around the massive hotel he searched the shadows for her. Damn the security guard for stopping him from capturing her and getting answers about why she’d tried to take Charlie.

Did she want to take Charlie away and hold her for ransom? Had the Halversons wronged her or someone in her family, requiring retribution? Was there another reason she’d tried to get close to Charlie, to give her something, tell her something?

Mostly, he couldn’t forget the brown-black eyes filled with mystery and a touch of sadness.

Who was she?

Once again, he had to run the gauntlet of the security personnel at the front door and the woman holding the tablet with the list of names of persons who were allowed inside.

Gus wondered if the woman in black was on that list. If not, how had she managed to get past the security personnel? And if she was able to get past them, who else had done the same?

That thought made him worry that much more. Once his ID had been compared to the names on the roster, he hurried to find Declan and Charlie.

Making a beeline for the ballroom, he searched the faces, finally finding Declan, who stood with Charlie at the far end of the ballroom. Declan was easy to spot. He was a good head taller than most of the women and many of the men in attendance.

Gus worked his way around the side of the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, in case they waylaid him and tried to strike up a conversation. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to strangers. Except maybe the woman in the black dress.

Ten minutes had passed since he’d left Charlie and Declan inside the hotel to chase after the woman who got away.

“Everything okay?” he asked when he finally reached them.

Charlie frowned. “I can’t get that woman out of my mind.”

Gus caught himself short of saying, you and me both, sister. Instead, he nodded. “Did she hurt you in any way?”

“No,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “She kept saying she just needed to talk to me. Something about being the key to who she was.” The older woman’s frown deepened. “There was a certain desperation in her eyes. I should have gone with her.”

Declan touched Charlie’s arm. “We don’t know who she is, or why she felt the need to drag you out of the hotel. For all we know, she could have been on a mission to kidnap you and hold you for ransom.”

Charlie looked up into Gus’s eyes. “I don’t think so. She didn’t hold a gun or knife to my head. I could have shaken free of her grip had I tried hard enough. I truly believe she only wanted to get me alone to talk to me. About what, I can’t imagine. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”






“DO YOU THINK she might claim to be a secret daughter of your late husband?” Declan asked.

Charlie snorted. “I don’t think so. We didn’t have children. John was infertile.” Her lips curled into a sad smile. “He wanted children, but he never could have fathered them. No, the woman couldn’t have been his daughter.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m getting a headache. Perhaps it’s time for us to leave and let the younger people stay and dance the night away.” She straightened her shoulders and placed her hand on Declan’s arm.

Gus fell in step at her other side.

They’d only gone a few feet when a loud, whining sound penetrated the roar of voices in the ballroom.

Gus tilted his head and listened as the noise continued. “Fire alarm.”

The hotel concierge appeared at the opposite end of the ballroom, carrying a bullhorn. “Ladies and gentlemen. We’re sorry to disturb your evening, but what you are hearing is the fire alarm. We need everyone to leave the building through the closest exit to you.”

Declan pointed to one of the signs to the outside. “This way.” He cupped Charlie’s elbow and led her toward the exit. Gus cupped her other elbow and the two men escorted her out of the ballroom, into a long hallway with a bright red exit sign over the door at the end. In the hallway, the alarm was even louder.

The door at the end of the hallway, like the one he’d chased the woman in the black dress through, opened to the outside.

“Should we go out a door closer to the bulk of the crowd?” Gus suggested.

“No,” Charlie said. “They wanted everyone out in case there really is a fire.”

Gus pushed open the door. Before he stepped out, he looked for the security personnel first. No one stood outside. In fact, the back of the building appeared deserted.

Gus held open the door while Declan led Charlie out of the building.

“Are you guys evacuating?” Mack said into Gus’s earpiece.

“We are,” Declan responded. “We just stepped out of the building at the southeastern corner. We’ll make our way around to the front, coming up the eastern side.”

“We’re on our way to rendezvous with you,” Mack said.

As they rounded the corner of the building, men jumped out of the shadows and surrounded them.

Declan and Gus stepped in front of Charlie.

“We’ve got trouble,” Gus said into his microphone.

“How much trouble?” Mack asked.

“Six deep,” Gus said. Six big burly men, none of whom wore the uniforms of the paid security guards.

Gus braced himself as the men rushed them.

The first one to Gus swung a meaty fist at his head. Gus ducked and slammed his fist into the man’s gut.

The man doubled over but was replaced by the next man behind him.

Gus didn’t let the fact they were outnumbered slow him down. He had to keep even one of them from getting to Charlie.

Declan had his hands full, throwing punches, ducking some and taking a couple to the jaw. The men they were fighting were trained combatants. For every punch Gus threw, they hit back with equal aim and dexterity.

While Gus and Declan fought off two each, the fifth and sixth men circled around them and grabbed Charlie’s arm.

She screamed, kicked and cursed, doing her best to protect herself. But she was one woman. The two men were bigger, stronger and meaner than anything she could offer in the way of a fight.

Gus punched and kicked like a madman, but he couldn’t free himself from the two men fast enough to help Charlie and neither could Declan.

Then, out of the shadows, came a whirling dervish in a black dress. She attacked the men holding Charlie, landing a side kick in one guy’s kidney. She spun and swept her other foot around, hitting the other guy in the temple.

Both men staggered and loosened their holds on Charlie long enough for her to get away.

The woman in the black dress didn’t stop there.

When the men reached out for Charlie again, the woman grabbed one man’s arm and, using his own momentum, flipped him. He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs.

The other guy, seeing his partner laid low, went after the woman in the black dress. He grabbed her from behind around the middle and lifted her off the ground.

Gus had his own hands full taking care of the two who had him cornered. One pulled a knife and lunged at him. Gus grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife, twisted it around and slammed the knife into the second man’s ribs. The man went down with the knife still stuck inside him.

An elbow to the nose of the man still standing got his attention. Gus brought up his knee at the same time he slammed the man’s head down. He lay still on the pavement.

Gus went after the guy holding the woman in black.

Before he could reach him, the woman doubled over, her feet hit the ground and she flipped with the man holding her around her waist. Twisting free, she rolled out of range and came up in a ready stance.

The two men who’d fought with the woman took off, running for the shadows.

Declan’s two attackers broke free, grabbed the man on the ground by the arms and hauled him to his feet. Then they ran after the others.

The man with the knife in his ribs lay groaning on the pavement, his voice trailing off as blood spilled onto the ground.

Declan ran for Charlie who stood nearby.

Gus approached the woman in the black dress.

She raised her hands. “I’m not here to hurt Mrs. Halverson. I only need to talk to her. Nothing more.”

Security guards ran toward them.

“I can’t stay,” the strange woman said, her eyes wide as the guards came closer. “I can’t let them question me.”

“Meet us at the corner three blocks in that direction.” Charlie pointed. “We’ll pick you up in my car.”

The woman hesitated.

Charlie reached out and touched her arm. “Trust me. We’ll be there.”

After a solemn nod to Charlie and a glance over her shoulder at the people headed toward them, the woman ran.

“What were you thinking?” Declan asked. “You don’t know who she is or what she wants. She could be after the same thing those men wanted. You for ransom.”

“If she hadn’t shown up when she did, I might not be standing here,” Charlie said. “You two were outnumbered.”

Gus nodded. Charlie was right. The men they’d fought had been trained in hand-to-hand combat. They hadn’t been easy to overcome. If the mystery woman hadn’t come along when she had, Charlie could have been taken or killed.

“Now, let’s get past all the police questions and on the road home. I want to know more about our mystery helper.” Charlie started for the front of the hotel. “First off, where did she learn to fight like that? I need her to teach me a few tricks so I don’t get into another situation like that. I don’t like feeling helpless.”

Gus would like to know more about the woman, as well. She’d impressed the hell out of him with her fighting skills. He had questions for her, too. And he wasn’t so sure they could trust her. Obviously, she could take care of herself, but would she use those skills on them to overtake the team and the driver and abscond with Charlie?






THREE BLOCKS DOWN the road from the Mayflower Hotel, she waited in the shadows, watching for a limousine. Had the Halverson woman told her she’d collect her to get her to leave her alone?

Wearing only the dress and the high heels she’d worn to the party, it wasn’t long before the chill night air set in. She rubbed her bare arms and stamped her feet, praying a limousine would drive up, she’d get in and the heater would be on full blast.

She’d ask all the questions after she’d thawed her cold hands and quit shaking like a blender on full speed. And she’d thought the heat intolerable in Syria.

At that moment, she could stand a good reason to sweat. If she weren’t wearing the heels, she’d jog up and down the alley to get her blood moving. Alas, the straps were digging into her skin and making blisters. Running was only an option if her life depended on it.

Without a watch, she couldn’t tell how much time had passed since Charlotte Halverson had promised to pick her up. Several vehicles had gone by, but none had been a limousine.

Giving up wasn’t an option. She had nowhere else to go. No money, no home, no extra clothing. The jeans and T-shirt she’d arrived at the hotel in were where she’d left them when she’d changed into the staff’s uniform.

She didn’t think she was the kind of person who stole items on a regular basis. When she had, it had been purely a matter of desperation. Until she knew who she was, she didn’t know whether she’d had a job, a bank account or a home. Surely someone missed her somewhere. Someone who knew her life history. Her name.

One thing she’d learned about herself in her journey to that corner in DC was that she knew how to fight. Her moves were instinctive. Though she’d bet they were learned. The kind of learning that required lots of practice and repetition. Training.

Had she been in the military? Perhaps she was a member of the CIA. That would explain why she had been captured and tortured. It would also explain why she had no identification papers on her.

If the Halverson woman didn’t know who she was, perhaps she’d go to the CIA and ask if they were missing an agent.

Unless...she was wanted by the CIA. In which case, she would be trading one prison cell for another. And she couldn’t go back into captivity. She’d die fighting before she would allow anyone to capture and torture her again.

A dark SUV slowed at the corner Charlotte Halverson had indicated. Since it wasn’t a limousine, she had no intention of stepping out into the open. What if the men she’d fought with that night had come back to seek revenge on the woman who’d foiled their attempt to abduct the rich widow? She’d overpowered them once. What were the chances they’d let her get away with it again? Slim to none.

The SUV continued a little farther down the road, inching along until it came to a full stop. A man got out and stood waiting.

Headlights indicated the approach of another vehicle.

She watched from the shadows of the alley, shivering in the cold.

Hope blossomed in her chest as a smooth black limousine pulled to a stop against the curb.

Still, she waited, not willing to expose herself to trouble when there was already one man waiting nearby. He could be there to make another attempt to nab the Halverson woman.

Another SUV pulled in behind the limousine. A second man emerged. The two men standing guard were big, muscular and held themselves with the confidence and bearing of those who’d known military service.

The limousine driver got out of the vehicle and opened the back door.

The same man who’d chased her out of the hotel in the first place emerged from the vehicle and bent to assist the rich widow out, as well. She was followed by the other bodyguard who’d been inside the hotel with her.

They stood for a moment, all looking around.

“I don’t like this. You’re far too exposed out here on the street,” said the bodyguard who’d forced her out of the hotel.

“Gus, we promised we’d come to pick her up,” Mrs. Halverson said. “I keep my promises.” She turned to her other bodyguard. “Declan, have your men look for her.”

The one called Declan nodded. “I will, Charlie, after you get back into the limousine with Arnold.” He nodded to the driver. “If anything happens, I want you to drive. Get Charlie out of here as fast as you can.”

Arnold, the driver, nodded. “I will.” He held the limousine’s back door open. “Mrs. Halverson, please. Let Declan’s Defenders do their job. If the woman is here, they’ll find her.”

The widow frowned. “Fine. I’ll get into the limousine...in a moment.” She turned a full circle, staring into the shadows in all directions. “Young lady, don’t be afraid,” she called out. “I only want to thank you for helping us. Please, let me return the favor.” After a long moment, she sighed and slid into the limousine.

Afraid Charlotte Halverson would leave before she told her who she was, she stepped out of the shadows into the dull yellow glow of a streetlight. “Wait. I’m here.”

If it was a setup to grab her and take her to the police, so be it. With no better options and nowhere to go, she figured it was worth the risk.

Mrs. Halverson started to get back out of the limousine. “Oh, thank God. I was worried you’d been hurt in the fight. Please, get in.” The older woman changed directions and scooted across the seat, making room for her in the limousine.

The man called Gus stepped in between the Halverson woman and her. “Perhaps it would be better if she rode in one of the SUVs.”

“Nonsense, Gus. She’s riding with me,” Charlotte said. “I’ll be safe with you, Declan and Arnold to protect me.” She patted the seat beside her. “Come on. Let us take you where you need to go.”

“I understand your hesitation to trust me.” She stared into Gus’s eyes and raised her arms. “If you want to frisk me, you can. I’m not carrying any kind of concealed weapon.”

Gus snorted. “You don’t need to. Your hands and feet are lethal by themselves.”

She held her wrists together in front of her. “If it will make you feel better, you can bind my wrists and feet to keep Mrs. Halverson safe.” The thought of being held captive made her quiver inside. But she reassured herself that she could escape if she had to.

Gus glanced toward Declan. “Did you bring zip ties?”

Declan nodded. “I did.” He reached into the front of the limousine and pulled out a handful of plastic zip ties.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Mrs. Halverson said.

“No, really. I don’t mind,” she said. “They are only doing their jobs and keeping you safe from me. I would expect no less.” Again, she held out her wrists.

Declan slipped a zip tie around them and pulled it snug. “I’m sorry, but we don’t know you, or what you want from Charlie.”

Gus frowned. “Aren’t you going to secure her legs?”

“Absolutely not.” Mrs. Halverson glared at her bodyguards. “This woman is my guest. I won’t have you treating her like a criminal. Now, let her get into the vehicle before I fire all of you.”

Gus frowned heavily before he finally moved out of the way and allowed her to get in beside Mrs. Halverson.

He slid in next to her and Declan sat across from them.

“Make one wrong move,” Gus said, “and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The woman nodded. “I’m not here to hurt Mrs. Halverson. I only want information.”

Arnold closed the back door, slid into the driver’s seat and pulled in behind the lead SUV.

“Okay, now that you have my undivided attention,” Mrs. Halverson said. “Who are you, and what is it you want from me?”

“That’s just it,” she said, her heart sinking. “I don’t know who I am. I was hoping you could tell me that.”




Chapter Four (#u5bb46a2b-8996-564c-bb42-931a142361d3)


Gus frowned. “Wait. What? You don’t know who you are?”

The woman shook her head. “No. All I know is what I have tattooed on my wrist.” She held out her hand, palm up.

Charlie gasped and grabbed her wrist. “That’s the Trinity knot.” She shot a glance at Declan. “What are the chances that this is a coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Declan said, his voice tight, his jaw even tighter. “You don’t know who you are? How did you know to come to Mrs. Halverson?”

The woman nodded toward the tattoo. “The coordinates below the symbol.”

“What coordinates?” Gus stared at the tattoo. “All I see are squiggly lines.”

“They’re numbers in Hebrew,” she said.

Gus wasn’t buying her story. Who tattooed coordinates on her own body? And in Hebrew? Highly unlikely. “How do you know they aren’t a telephone number or someone’s birth date?”

“I had ten days in the hull of a ship to think about it. As you can see, there are two rows of numbers. When I reached the US, I gave the telephone theory a shot. When I called the first one, it played a recording that it was out of service. I got a day care facility on the second one. Given the numbers, I figured they were longitude and latitude. The coordinates pointed to the Halverson Estate in Virginia.” She stared into Charlie’s eyes. “I don’t have any other ideas. If you don’t know who I am, I don’t know where to go from here.”

Charlie studied her for a long time and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize you at all.” Her brow furrowed. “But then I wasn’t always privy to all of my late husband’s activities. Perhaps he knew you?”

The woman’s shoulders sagged.

Charlie reached out to her. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you. It must be very distressful not knowing your own name. In the meantime, we have to call you something.”

“Jane Doe,” Gus said.

“That’s so impersonal,” Charlie protested.

“It’s temporary until we figure out who she is,” Declan said.

The woman in the black dress shrugged. “It’s as good a name as any.” She nodded toward Gus. “And like he said, it’s temporary. Or at least I hope it’s temporary. Until I figure out who I am, I have no home, no identification and no job that I know of.”

“In other words, you’re broke and homeless,” Gus said. “Can’t blame you for chasing down a rich widow. I guess I would, too, in your circumstances.”

Jane Doe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want Mrs. Halverson’s money. I want to know who I am. Right now, I have no history, memories or family that I know of. If I had a job, I’m sure, by now, I’ve been fired for not showing up.”

“You said you spent ten days in the hull of a ship,” Declan’s eyes narrowed. “Is that where you were when you came to or discovered you’d lost your memory?”

She shook her head, her jaw hardening. “No.”

Gus leaned forward. “Where were you?”

She didn’t look at him, but stared into Charlie’s face. “I was locked inside a tiny cell in a small village in Syria.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Syria?”

“Yes, ma’am. Syria.”

“What were you doing in Syria?” Charlie asked.

Glancing away, Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is I was held captive. That’s where I woke up without my memory.”





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