Carol Ericson - Delta Force Die Hard

“Buys us some time.”

She flicked her fingers at him. “We have to get you some clothes...and food. Are you hungry?”

“Not at all.” He tapped on the window. “Not sure where we’re going to buy clothes in the middle of nowhere.”

“We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere. See those mountains?” She tipped her chin forward. “There’s a ski resort up there, and it’s open despite the lack of snow. They’re manufacturing it now and expect the weather to cooperate in the next day or two for the Christmas holidays.”

“You know this area?”

“No. Why would I know this area when I’m from Vegas?” She stopped and bit her bottom lip. “But you don’t know that I’m from Vegas, do you?”

He reached out suddenly and touched her wrist. “No, but I’ll remember. You’ll tell me everything.”

A smile wobbled on her lips. “Looking forward to it.”

He pulled his hand back and dropped it in his lap as guilt nibbled at the edges of his mind. Touching her had been a calculated move on his part because he’d sensed her grief at his memory loss. His amnesia might even be worse for her. At least he didn’t know what he was missing.

It had to be devastating to look into the eyes of someone who was supposed to love you and see a complete lack of recognition or feeling.

He stared out the window. Not a complete lack of feeling. Even locked in the trunk, he’d experienced an overpowering urge to protect this woman when she’d been in danger. Maybe that was normal under the circumstances, but he’d felt a tug at his heart when he first ran into her in the woods, too.

He’d get it all back. From what he’d seen of Paige so far, he had great taste in women.

“How much longer to the ski resort and do you think you can make it to a store before it closes and pick up some clothes for me?”

“Maybe an hour away. I know your sizes. Don’t worry.” A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Do you think it’ll be safe? Would they have any reason to track us there?”

“Hell, I don’t know. I don’t even know why they’d want to track me down. What do they want with me?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. All I wanted to do was visit you, and the army officer who called me wouldn’t tell me where you were. Didn’t believe I was your fiancée.”

“Why’d he call you?”

“I called the army trying to locate you when I heard about the incident. One of your team members called me to tell me about it, but he wouldn’t tell me much. The army finally returned my call after they found my name and number in the favorites on your phone.” She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel and then renewed her grip. “What happened, Asher? Do you remember?”

“That’s what’s weird.” He scratched his jaw. “I do remember what happened right before my fall.”

“That is unusual.”

He jerked his head toward her. “You think so, too?”

“Since you don’t know anything about me,” she said with a sniff, “you don’t know I’m a psychologist. I handle a lot of PTSD cases and repressed memories.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s convenient... A shrink. A shrinky-dinky.”

She jerked the steering wheel. “Why did you say that?”

“Shrinky-dinky? I don’t know. The silly phrase keeps coming to me every time I say or hear the word shrink .” He studied her profile—the slightly upturned nose and the firm chin. “Why?”

“When I finished my hours and got licensed to practice, that’s what you’d call me.” She licked her lips. “You remembered that on your own.”

“I did. Thank God. It’s all going to come back, isn’t it?”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “I can help you, Asher. I can help you recover your memories. It doesn’t sound like the damage to your brain is permanent if a nickname came to you like that. Did the doctors mention anything about a permanent injury?”

“No. They kept assuring me that I’d fully recover my memory.”

She let out a sigh. “That’s good. It is strange though that you happen to remember the incident itself. What did happen? Can you tell me?”

“I can tell you. It’s not classified or anything, and if it were, I guess I can’t remember the classification level, anyway.” He poked her in the side and got a smile out of her. “There are a few advantages to memory loss.”

“There can be.” Her pale cheeks flushed. “So, what happened out there in Afghanistan?”

“My commander, Major Rex Denver, was supposed to be having a meeting with a snitch from one of the groups that holds control of that area. The guy wanted to start feeding us intel and Denver was the man. He took me along and an army ranger. While we waited for the contact to show up, Denver took control. He shot the army ranger and then came at me. He took me off guard and pushed me off the edge of a cliff. I fell—” he tapped his head “—hit this thing and blacked out. An army ranger unit rescued me. Somehow, I managed to escape any severe physical injury, but I had a gash on the back of my head and I couldn’t remember a damned thing when I came to.”

“Except the incident that sent you over the edge.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I didn’t remember that right away, either. That unfolded for me when I got to an army hospital in Germany and much more when they got me to Hidden Hills.”

“Hidden Hills is an unfortunate name for that place.” Paige lodged the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “That kind of selective memory is unusual.”

“I stayed in Germany for a month before they shipped me to that crazy place. The hospital in Germany dealt more with my physical injuries—my head wound.”

“And your Delta Force team members? Did they ever come to visit you?”

“No.” Asher curled his hands into fists. “They didn’t like what I had to say about Major Denver. Didn’t believe me and blamed me because Denver went AWOL.”

“I tried calling a few of them, too, with no luck.” Paige drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel. “Denver went AWOL after what happened with you?”

“Right after. Apparently, he took off after he attacked me. Left me for dead, but at least he got word to someone that my body was lying at the bottom of that drop-off.”

“He did? He reported your location and condition?”

“Yeah, great guy, huh? He thought he’d killed me.”

“D-do you remember Major Denver and the others?”

His eye twitched as pain throbbed against his temple. “No. I only recall Denver in that moment. I don’t remember anything about him or working with him...or the others.”

“Maybe it’s your defense.” She lifted her shoulders. “He did such a terrible thing to you, you’ve blocked out anything good about him to protect yourself.”

“I don’t know.” He squeezed his eyes closed as the pain spread across his forehead.

“Grab my purse in the back seat.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I have some ibuprofen in there. That plastic bag on the floor has some bottled water and a leftover sandwich if you’re hungry.”

He reached around and dragged her purse into the front seat. “Where?”

“The bottle’s in the makeup bag.”

He unzipped the little leopard-print bag and plucked a small bottle from it. He shook three gel caps into his hand and tossed them into his mouth. He chased them with a gulp of water and eased his head against the headrest. “I’m going to try to rest my eyes.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I don’t think I’ll be falling asleep.”

As much as he tried to keep his eyes open, closing them soothed the pain in his head and he allowed his heavy lids to drop. He would drift off, but something urgent kept prodding him and he’d jerk awake with a start.