A Man Worth Remembering

“What’s my name?” she asked Sanchez. She wanted answers, and by God, she wanted them now.

“Leigh O’Brien.”

That didn’t mean anything to her. Only the water and Sanchez saving her meant anything. For all practical purposes, her life had begun the moment she realized she was drowning. That wasn’t a comforting thought. “Where am I?”

“A private clinic near New Orleans.”

So, they hadn’t left the area. But it wasn’t an ordinary clinic. She was sure of that. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Am I a cop?”

The room went deadly silent. “No,” the blond man finally answered.

Leigh didn’t like that hesitation. It sent a wave of panic through her. “Am I a criminal then?” And she braced herself for the answer.

These people might be here to arrest her for something she’d done wrong. Had someone tossed her in that lake because of a drug deal gone bad? An organized-crime housecleaning? What awful thing had she done to make someone want to murder her?

The blond man took a step forward, placing himself slightly ahead of the others. “You’re not a criminal.”

She allowed herself a short breath of relief. Just one. And got down to business. “Since these questions could go on forever, why don’t you just tell me who you are?”

The three glanced at each other before the blond man said anything else. “I’m Wade Jenkins. People call me Jinx. Special Agent Sanchez and I are with the FBI. Agent Teresa Walters is an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms—the ATF.”

“FBI. ATF,” Leigh repeated. “What about me? Am I some sort of agent, too?”

“You’re a concerned citizen.” The blond man burrowed his index finger into his eyebrow. “A concerned citizen with a rather large problem.”

“Obviously,” Leigh snapped. “Believe me, after everything that’s happened, I can guess there’s a problem. Now, other than a concerned citizen, who am I? If I don’t work for an agency with initials, where do I work?”

“At a bookstore in Austin, Texas,” Jinx answered.

“A bookstore?” A bookstore. That couldn’t be right. Nothing about that felt right.

He didn’t elaborate. “Exactly what do you remember about being in the water?”

A good question. Too bad she didn’t have a good answer. “Not much other than Agent Sanchez saving me. Before that, all I remember is struggling and sinking deeper.”

“Any idea who put you in the lake?”

She tried to force the answer to appear in her mind. It didn’t work. She had no more answers about that now than she had when Sanchez had first asked her. “No. I have an image of someone on a bridge, but I can’t make out any of the features. Someone wearing light colors. I don’t suppose that helps you any?”

“No,” Teresa Walters answered in a frustrated huff. “But your amnesia is only part of the problem. This might not be over. Someone might make another attempt to kill you.”

Leigh swallowed hard. She hadn’t considered that. Yet. However, after her adrenaline fatigue wore off, it would no doubt have occurred to her. Amnesia or not, she still had common sense.

She hoped.

Leigh turned her gaze to Sanchez. “Who wants me dead?”

He lifted his shoulder. “We don’t know.”

“Can you at least tell me what it involves? What—”

“The less you know, the better,” Jinx interrupted.

“Maybe that’s your way of looking at it, but I see things from a little different perspective than you do. Someone tried to kill me, and I think I have a right to know why.”

“Jinx is right about this, Leigh,” Sanchez spoke up. “Even if we told you everything, it wouldn’t make you safer. That’s why we’ll provide you with protection.”

She shook her head, already objecting. “Now, wait a minute. I don’t even know any of you, and you want me to place my life in your hands? How do I know you’re not the people who tried to kill me, huh?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sanchez answered. “If we wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have pulled you out of that lake.”

“But those two didn’t pull me out.” She pointed to Wade Jenkins and then to Teresa Walters. “The way I see it, I’m in a real mess here. What if some secret’s trapped in my head, and you want me around just long enough to get it? What if you kill me the minute I tell you what you want to know?”

Agent Walters threw her hands in the air. “I give up. Let me know when you can talk some sense into her.”

Leigh was about to tell the woman exactly what she thought of her when Sanchez broke in. “You can trust me, Leigh.” The offer had not come effortlessly. It came with a scalpel-sharp glare.

“Why? Because you saved my life?”

He didn’t answer, but after a moment Jinx did. “Not just that. You can trust him because Gabe Sanchez is your husband.”

Chapter Two

Gabe could almost feel her gaze crawl all over him. He braced himself for the storm he was about to face. And there would be one heck of a storm when Leigh got going with her questions. No doubt about it.

“My husband?” she repeated.

He nodded but didn’t add more than that. The details of their marital status were among a mile-long list of things he didn’t want to discuss with her. Too bad he’d probably have to do just that before this was over.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Are we really married?”

He eased onto the edge of the narrow gurney and stared down at her. No sense standing for what would basically be an interrogation. “I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me the truth. Is this memory loss all an act?”

“No.” Aggravation danced across her eyes. “I wish it were, because I can promise you I wouldn’t be here. I don’t like being here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Gabe made a sweeping glance around the room. “I don’t care much for it myself.”

Leigh made the same sweeping glance, and when she finished, their eyes met, coming together until they held. “Are you really my husband?”

Well, this was one part of the conversation that he obviously couldn’t put off. Not that it surprised him. If their situations were reversed, he’d want to know the same thing. “Afraid so. You’re not happy about that?”

“The jury’s still out. It’s hard to know if I’m happy about it when I don’t even know you. So, how long have we been married?”

Ah, a test. He’d expected that, too. “Four years, six months.” He paused, thinking. “And eighteen days.”