Carol Ericson - Trap, Secure

An injured woman’s only hope of figuring out who she is relies upon a CIA Agent in Carol Ericson’s Brothers in Arms: Fully Engaged miniseries.

The last thing Miranda Lewis remembers is being shot…then tumbling over the balcony. When a sexy, blue-eyed stranger finds her, she has no memory of who she is or what she’s doing in the jungles of Colombia.

Gage Booker risked his life in the raid on the compound, only to discover his quarry gone and an injured woman left for dead, a woman the covert operative would be a fool to trust. But her amnesia seems real—and so does the passion exploding between them.

Her heart raced at his warm caress, and she turned her head to press her lips against his rough palm. Murmuring against his hand, she said, “I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

He pinched her earlobe and returned his hand to the steering wheel. “We’ll help each other.”

She studied his profile and confusion stirred in her belly. Was that his plan? Help the poor, vulnerable amnesiac so she’d do anything he asked? Tell him anything he wanted to know?

Was he playing her? She’d become so dependent on him that she’d do anything to stay by his side. What if telling Gage Booker everything jeopardized other people? What if spilling her guts to him meant betraying people she loved? People she didn’t even know about yet?

CAROL ERICSONlives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange head- aches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Trap, Secure

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Gage Booker—Prospero Team Three agent who’s hot on the heels of an international arms dealer and discovers a beautiful woman with amnesia instead. If the woman turns out to be the arms dealer’s mistress, it might be Gage’s lucky day...or his worst nightmare.

Randi Lewis—She has no memory, no life, no identity and she’s supposed to trust the sexy spy who rescues her. Does she have a choice?

Nicholas and Angelina Zendaris—Randi’s charges, her love for them is the only reason she stays in the Zendaris household, and the children repay her by saving her life.

Jessica Lehman—A friend of Randi’s from Texas who can tell Randi who she is—if she lives long enough to do so.

Lawrence Jessup—A CIA officer in Panama who offers to assist Randi, but his assistance takes a sinister turn.

Dr. Helen Murdoch—This CIA psychiatrist is more than willing to help Randi recover her memories—just as long as they’re the right memories.

Dr. Elle Fonesca—Gage’s twin sister hypnotizes Randi to help her regain her memory, but worries that her brother’s attraction for the amnesiac will only complicate matters.

Dr. Helen Murdoch—An international arms dealer who was burned by Prospero Team Three; now he wants revenge, and nothing’s going to get in his way this time

For Neil and the boys, always.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Randi Lewis clutched the book of fairy tales to her chest as a second thump shook the room.

The children laughed, and Nicky poked his finger at the book. “Did the witch scare you, mademoiselle?”

Randi eked out a smile. Nicky didn’t seem to notice the strange bumps in the nights and the comings and goings of an assortment of odd characters to his father’s palatial home in the middle of the jungle.

But Randi had grown more and more aware—and leery—of them.

Her grandmother had warned her about taking a job in this luxurious but strange household. “Drogas,” Abuelita used to say. Drugs.

But the locals had assured her Nico Zendaris was no drug lord, and Randi had needed the job to help her ailing grandmother. Now with Abuelita dead, nothing was keeping Randi in Colombia.

Nicky’s younger sister, Angelina, tapped her knee. “More story, please, mademoiselle.”

Nothing except these motherless children.

Tugging on one of Angelina’s dark curls, Randi met the girl’s big, dark eyes and said, “But this is the scary part, Angelina. You always cover your ears during this part.”

Angelina dropped her lashes, and her gaze slid to the door. “More story, please.”

Tears choked Randi’s throat. The activities and people in her father’s house did scare Angelina. The girl preferred the make-believe fears of witches and giants to the very real fears of shadowy men, her father’s outbursts and being uprooted and shipped off to other countries at a moment’s notice.

Randi peeled the book from her chest and cleared her throat. “The witch fed the children more and more food—roasted duck and mashed potatoes and thick slabs of bread and cheese and ice cream sundaes.”

Nicky howled. “You’re making that part up. They didn’t have ice cream sundaes in those days.”

“Shh, Nicky. Don’t yell.” Angelina stuck her fingers in her ears.

Patting his sister on the head, Nicky rose to his knees. “I want to see the picture, mademoiselle. I want to see the picture of ice cream sundaes.”

Randi turned the book around to face the kids. Something crashed right beneath them, and she dropped the book.

Angelina scooted closer to Randi and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Randi dropped her hand to Angelina’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”

The crash even caught Nicky’s attention, and he looked up from the fallen book with a pair of round eyes. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure.” Her gaze darted to the intercom on the wall. Mr. Zendaris often used it to communicate with her when she had the children in this room—what he called the nursery—even though Nicky was seven and Angelina had just turned five.

Her tongue swept across her dry lips. She rose from the chair and almost crept across the room to the intercom. On the way, she locked the door of the nursery.

She pressed the intercom button. “Hello? Is everything okay downstairs?”

Mr. Zendaris’s security had set up the intercom so that the people on the other end could hear her, but she couldn’t hear them unless they pressed the button on their intercom. Not that she needed an intercom to hear the noises, shouts and upheaval from downstairs.

Both children whimpered and crowded against her. She pressed them close with one hand and spoke into the intercom again. “Hello? This is Mademoiselle Lewis. I’m with the children. Is there a problem?”