Beverly Long - Agent Bride

When she woke up, he was going to force her to come clean. Once he had the story, he’d know what to do.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, remembering that mango was one of his favorite fruits. A little tart. Juicy. Delicious.

Damn.

Two hours later, he gently rolled over and bumped into her, his knee to her hip. She shifted but didn’t wake up. He reached up and turned on the light.

“Hey,” she said. She turned to look at him. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone sleepy, yet coherent.

“Just had to use the head,” he lied. He looked at her eyes. Pupils still looked good. Her color was fine. “Go back to sleep,” he said, turning off the light.

She was quiet for several minutes but he could tell by her breathing that she was agitated. He wasn’t surprised when she suddenly sat up in bed.

“You did not have to use the bathroom.”

“I didn’t?” he asked with deliberate surprise. “That’s rather personal, isn’t it?”

“You woke me up on purpose.”

“Why would I do that? So I could have this lovely conversation?” He rolled over and gave her his back.

She waited a full minute before she shoved his shoulder. “You were worried about the bump on my head.” She paused. “That was nice of you,” she added somewhat grudgingly.

He smiled. “Good night, Stormy.”

* * *

SHE LAY IN BED, covers up to her neck, relaxed for the first time. She knew it was because she’d finally let down her guard. Cal had had multiple opportunities to harm her and he’d taken none of them. Instead, he’d disturbed his own sleep to wake her up and make sure that she didn’t have a concussion.

He was smart, cocky, a little brash. Sexy in his blue jeans and forest-green Henley shirt.

He reminded her a little of a lounging tiger. Relaxed yet ready to pounce. He moved with quiet confidence.

She envied that. She didn’t have any confidence right now.

But maybe by morning. She closed her eyes and let the sleep come.

The next thing she knew, strong hands gripped her shoulders. Half-asleep, old instincts kicked in. She wrenched her body sideways, attempting to fight.

But she couldn’t budge her attacker.

She opened her eyes, saw Cal on his knees, straddling her.

It was several more terror-filled seconds before she processed what was going on. She forced herself to breathe, to clear her head. He was holding her, not hurting her, simply trying to avoid getting hurt himself. She looked at the bedcovers. They were in a tangled heap, wrapped around her legs.

“What day is it?” she demanded.

That surprised him. “It’s Wednesday. Why?”

She let out a breath. “I needed to know if it was Saturday.”

“Because?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But she saw the determined look on his face, knew that he wanted answers. “I had a bad dream,” she said.

“You think?” he asked, his tone tense. His big body hovered over her, his weight off her but his presence immense.

While bedcovers and layers of clothes separated them, their closeness was suddenly intensely intimate. And disconcerting as hell to go from something horrible, like her dream, to something that offered a promise of being good, very good.

Breathe, she told herself.

“I think you scared ten years off my life,” he said, his tone a little easier now.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

He moved fast, swinging one leg over so that he was kneeling beside her. His hazel eyes looked troubled. “Want to talk about it?”

Could she? Could she go back to that dark place? Could she pretend that it had just been an oddly disturbing dream?

Could she trust this man who had barged into her room and taken up more than his share of the bed?

He’d saved her life.

Had doubled back to let her know about the men looking for her. She looked at him closer. He had a red mark on his face. He hadn’t had it the night before. “What happened there?” she asked, already suspecting the truth.

“You’ve got a strong right hook,” he said nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, you popped me one at about the same time you started screaming. It was a bit disconcerting for a minute.”

Someone with less control might have killed her by mistake in response.

“I was lying on a bed,” she said. “It was narrow, more like a cot.”

He nodded.

“I wanted to get up, knew I needed to get away. But my wrists were tied to the bed frame. I pulled and pulled but it was no use.”

“Who tied you there?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It...it looked like a ghost. All white.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I know, crazy, right?” she said.

“Nope. Did the ghost talk to you?”

She thought for a minute. He had. She knew that. Couldn’t remember what he’d said. “I’m not sure.”

“What else do you remember?”

She pointed to the garbage can in the corner. “That was hanging in the corner of the room.”

“The wedding dress?” he asked.

“Yes.” She’d been scared of the dress but she could hardly admit that. There was something else and she tried desperately to recall it but it was out of her reach.

“Do you remember anything else?”

“I was sick. The ghost made me so sick.”

He seemed to consider that. “You were screaming when you woke up. Why?”

“The ghost had come in and something bad was going to happen.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. But it was bad. I started screaming. And then...I guess I woke up.”

He seemed to consider his words. “You have marks on your wrists,” he said. “Like you’ve been restrained.”

He was pointing out the obvious. She could ignore it, dismiss it. Or she could take the risk, leave herself absolutely exposed. If she didn’t, she’d be all alone. “So you’re saying that maybe it wasn’t just a dream?”

“You tell me,” he said, his voice intense.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Maybe at the beginning.”

Wouldn’t that be nice? “Well, that was sometime before I met you. How long before, I’m not quite sure.”

“That’s a little confusing,” he said.

She sat up in bed and pushed a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know why but I am. The problem is, I don’t think I can get myself out of it.”

“Because?”

“Because I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know who else is involved. I don’t know how big this is but something tells me it’s big. Really big. And that terrifies me. I don’t know who the bad guys are. I don’t know what they want.” She took a breath.

“Okay. Anything else you don’t know?”

She nodded. This was the hardest part. “When I looked in the mirror yesterday, I didn’t recognize myself. Not because my hair was different or anything dumb like that. I didn’t know who the woman in the mirror was.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know who I am.”

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