Tess Gerritsen - Double Impact

She’d still be dead as far as the world knew.

That had been her only protection.

Now the only hope of survival she had was Arad.

Jack laughed a self-deprecating sound. It was just too damned ironic. Arad was the only hope she had of staying alive and she was the best shot the CIA had at seeing that Arad didn’t.

NO MORE…

Ami pushed back from the table and stood. She couldn’t bear another day of this.

The intense discussion of those around her, the clatter of silver against stoneware and the slosh of wine as it spilled into stemmed goblets abruptly ceased. The eyes of all those seated around the table instantly turned in her direction.

Michal’s gaze collided with hers.

Before he could put voice to the question reflected there, Ami rushed from the dining room. Blood pounded in her temples. She couldn’t think…couldn’t tolerate the perpetually building tension a second longer. She slammed the door shut behind her as she fled into the bedroom that was both hell and heaven on earth.

Night after night he lured her into his arms and made love to her so infinitely tenderly and yet with such intensity that she was certain each time that she would not survive the next. And each night she dreamed of the past they had shared, more and more pieces of the puzzle that was her former life falling into place. Then Jack Tanner’s voice would haunt her, sending ice through her veins.

They had another mission for her.

Ami pressed her fingertips to her forehead to stem the insistent pressure there and dropped onto the foot of the bed. She couldn’t do this. She’d told Tanner as much four days ago when he’d appeared in the ladies’ room of that restaurant like some kind of ghost who could materialize and vanish at will. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’d gotten to France-to her-by the usual means and he’d left that way, as well, without once offering to take her with him.

She was a hostage, dammit! Fury whipped through her, momentarily blotting out the skull-shattering tension. She was an American citizen who needed rescuing. But he’d left her here, insisting that she had to follow his orders exactly.

Or else.

No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t remember being a spy. Didn’t they understand that? No. No, they didn’t. Or maybe they simply didn’t care. The only thing she knew for certain was that she had to give it her best shot. A moan of agony wrenched through her. She hugged herself and rocked forward with the fierceness of it. Her baby. Dear God, they were using her baby for leverage to blackmail her into doing their bidding.

Where were her rights? She was the victim here! How could they qualify her freedom? Her safety?

Ami looked around the room, at her prison, and a stillness fell over her. She had to be stronger than this. Survival…getting back to her child depended on her and her alone. She had to do whatever it took. She squeezed her eyes shut and tamped down another wave of agony. But the waiting… It was pure hell. She could feel herself drawing closer to Michal-couldn’t stop it. He was like an obsession. She exhaled a weary sigh. How could she feel this way about a man who committed murder for money? There was no explanation for it. Her emotions were a total wreck. Her physical reactions to the man confused her so completely that she could scarcely think straight most of the time.

The CIA was counting on that. Ami stilled again. That was it. For now, stay put, and keep Arad happy. Tanner’s words sifted through her head. Michal was some sort of weakness for her. She toyed with that concept for a moment. As she was to him. Like kryptonite to Superman. That’s why he hadn’t killed her already. Dread swelled in her stomach. He couldn’t…

Whatever her mission was to be, it undoubtedly involved keeping Michal distracted. Happy. But why? What purpose did that serve?

Ami wiped her eyes and clenched her jaw. What did it matter? She had to follow orders or risk losing her son forever. That was a risk she wouldn’t take.

Who was to say she was as much a victim as she thought, anyway. The image of the older man, a knife plunged deeply into his chest, kept clawing its way into her dreams…into her every waking thought. Was she really responsible for his death? Had he truly been convinced that she was his daughter? She shook her head. She did not know the man. There had to be a mistake. She blinked and forced the disturbing image away. She wasn’t a murderer. Nothing anyone told her would ever make her believe that.

But she could be a spy or practically anything else required if it meant getting back home to her child.

She would do anything to make that happen.

MICHAL HESITATED outside the bedroom door. He did not look forward to this confrontation. Instead of lessening, her troubles had continued to build the past few days. He had thought that taking her into the city would ease her mind, help her remember. But it had not. She appeared more ill at ease than before. Even their lovemaking had not allayed her unrest. He had hoped that with their restored physical union that she would recall their past together and that things would be as they once were. But that had not happened by any stretch of the imagination.

Though she responded to him physically in a manner that encouraged him greatly, there were still reservations. Reservations she refused to discuss at length. Though she adamantly denied his suspicions, he could feel her holding back.

Michal no longer doubted her amnesia. But there was more. Something else stood between them-kept her from submitting to him completely.

The answer hit him with all the force of a physical blow. There had been someone else. Muscle after muscle went rigid until he felt forged of stone.

What did he expect?

Two years was a very long time. He could not claim celibacy on his part, either. Yet, the sexual gratification he had allowed himself from time to time had meant nothing…had changed nothing. Could she say the same? The mere idea of Amira with another man sent fire roaring through his veins, melting the granite-like weight that had pinned him to the spot. His movements spawned by fury, he burst through the bedroom door and glared straight into her startled gaze when she looked up.

“I will know the secret you are hiding from me.” He closed the distance between them with three long strides. “I will know it now, Amira.” The initial trepidation in her eyes morphed instantly into a fury that matched his own, the heat of it blazed from those deep blue depths as she rocketed to her feet. He leaned intimidatingly nearer and added, “If you lie to me, you will regret it.”

“Don’t call me that name,” she said with all the ferocity of a tigress. “My name is Ami Donovan.”

“Deny it until the end of time,” he shouted, “but Amira is your name. And Yael Peres was your father.”

She trembled but did not back away. “How is that possible?” She pushed up the sleeve of her blouse. “Look at my skin…and my hair.” She splayed her fingers through perpetually tousled golden tresses for emphasis. “I’m not Israeli.” She glanced at his hair and his skin to validate her point. “I’m Ami Donovan, an American-born citizen.”

The challenge remained in her stance, but the certainty in her eyes wavered when her gaze once more leveled on his.

“You are an American-born citizen, that is true enough,” he allowed more calmly as he touched her hair. She stiffened, which made him want to wrap his fingers in those long tresses and kiss her long and deep until she whimpered in submission. He tamped down his emotions, refusing to be baited by her show of will. “Your mother was fair with the same eyes the color of the sea.”