Midnight Remembered

“I wanted you to remember me on your own. If you didn’t, I wasn’t sure you’d ever believe me.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” Josh asked.

“Because what we did…” Paige hesitated, unsure how to explain her own fears. “I know we probably weren’t the first operatives to…have sex on a mission. I’d be a fool to believe that, considering the stresses. But you were always so damned hard-line about personal involvement.”

“Until that night,” he concluded for her. “Why would I have changed my mind?”

She had wondered that a thousand times. Once for every day he’d been missing. Because she had always remembered what had been in his eyes when he laid his gun on the ground and looked up at her. She had always known there was some connection between that look and his subsequent disappearance. And the most obvious was that he had known he would never see her again.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

The days are getting cooler, but the romantic suspense is always hot at Harlequin Intrigue! Check out this month’s selections.

TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL continues with The Specialist (#589) by Dani Sinclair. Rafe Alvarez was the resident playboy agent, until he met his match in Kendra Kincaide. He transformed his new partner into a femme fatale for the sake of a mission, and instantly lost his bachelor’s heart for the sake of love.…

THE SUTTON BABIES have grown in number by two in Little Boys Blue (#590) by Susan Kearney. A custody battle over cowboy M.D. Cameron Sutton’s baby boys was brewing. When East Coast socialite Alexa Whitfield agreed to a marriage of convenience, Cam thought his future was settled. Until he fell for his temporary wife—the same wife someone was determined to kill!

Hailed by Romantic Times Magazine as an author who writes a “tantalizing read,” Gayle Wilson returns with Midnight Remembered (#591), which marks the conclusion of her MORE MEN OF MYSTERY series. When ex-CIA agent Joshua Stone couldn’t remember his true identity, he became an easy target. But his ex-partner Paige Daniels knew all his secrets, including what was in his heart.…

Reeve Snyder had rescued Polly Black from death and delivered her baby girl one fateful night. Polly’s vulnerable beauty touched him deep inside, but who was she? And what was she running from? And next time, would Reeve be able to save her and her daughter when danger came calling? Find out in Alias Mommy (#592) by Linda O. Johnston.

Don’t miss a single exciting moment!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Midnight Remembered

Gayle Wilson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Gayle Wilson is the award-winning author of fifteen novels for Harlequin. She has lived in Alabama all her life except for the years she followed her army aviator husband—whom she met on a blind date—to a variety of military posts.

Before beginning her writing career, she taught English and world history to gifted high school students in a number of schools around the Birmingham area. Gayle and her husband have one son, who is also a teacher of gifted students. They are blessed with warm and loving Southern families and an ever-growing menagerie of cats and dogs.

You can write to Gayle at P.O. Box 3277, Hueytown, Alabama 35023.

Books by Gayle Wilson

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

344—ECHOES IN THE DARK

376—ONLY A WHISPER

414—THE REDEMPTION OF DEKE SUMMERS

442—HEART OF THE NIGHT

461—RANSOM MY HEART*

466—WHISPER MY LOVE*

469—REMEMBER MY TOUCH*

490—NEVER LET HER GO

509—THE BRIDE’S PROTECTOR†

513—THE STRANGER SHE KNEW†

517—HER BABY, HIS SECRET†

541—EACH PRECIOUS HOUR

561—HER PRIVATE BODYGUARD††

578—RENEGADE HEART††

591—MIDNIGHT REMEMBERED††

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY CIA

AGENT PROFILE

NAME: Joshua Stone

DATE OF BIRTH: December 28, 1960

ASSIGNED TEAM: External Security

SPECIAL SKILLS: Skilled in a variety of the martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, counterterrorism training, light and heavy weapons expert, mountain warfare expert.

AGENT EVALUATION: Highly valued and experienced antiterrorist operative whose disappearance during a covert operation forced the reassignment of his female partner.

CURRENT ADDRESS: Unknown

STATUS: Missing in action…

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Paige Daniels—She had survived her first and only mission for the External Security Team, but she had returned from it without her lover and partner. Just when Paige thought she had finally put that nightmare behind her, she discovered that some memories—and some men—are far more difficult to forget than others.

Joshua Stone—The most legendary operative of Griff Cabot’s elite team, Joshua Stone disappeared with a biological toxin worth millions on the black market. Had he turned traitor? Or had something so terrible happened to him that dark midnight that even Stone, with all his skills, couldn’t escape?

Jack Thompson—Why was his name on a folder in the top-secret files at the CIA? And why couldn’t he remember anything about the life he had led before he’d awakened from a coma in an Atlanta hospital?

Carl Steiner—He wanted the nerve agent in CIA hands, and he was willing to use anything or anybody to achieve that.

Andy Rombart—There is nothing more dangerous to a secret than a good cop with a couple of troublesome murders on his hands. And Andy Rombart was a very good cop.

Dr. Helen Culbertson—Could she reach the secrets locked in Jack Thompson’s mind? More important, would she survive the attempt?

To Phoebe Robinson—

for her unceasing support, her kindness and generosity

of spirit, and most of all for her friendship.

Contents

Prologue

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

Prologue

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get out?”

Paige Daniels turned her head and found Joshua Stone’s gaze on her face rather than on what was going on in the village square. And despite the seriousness of what was happening out there, his eyes seemed full of amusement.

“I haven’t allowed myself to believe that we’re going to get out of here,” she admitted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You have to have faith, Daniels,” Josh chided, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he grinned at her.

She turned her head, looking again at the men who were searching for them. They were moving systematically from building to building through the bombed-out rubble.

Armed primarily with out-of-date Soviet-made weapons, these rebels were as ill-equipped as were most of the Vladistan forces. Of course, there was nothing that said an old bullet couldn’t kill you as dead as a modern one.

“Okay…” she whispered, still watching the manhunt, “then first I’m going to take a hot bath.”

She heard a breath of sound beside her and recognized it as laughter. Her lips tilted in response, but this time she resisted the impulse to turn and look at him. Looking at Joshua Stone had proven too disruptive of her peace of mind during the weeks they’d spent together.

After all, he was her partner. A professional relationship. And so far it had been highly professional.

Despite her initial doubts that anyone could live up to the high regard in which Stone was held at the CIA, she had discovered that his reputation for ingenious planning and meticulous execution was well-deserved.

Partner. And nothing else, she reminded herself.

Even if there had been anything between them, now was not the time to allow herself to become distracted by it. Actually, she was determined that no one would ever know exactly how big a distraction Joshua Stone had been. Especially not Joshua Stone.

“Can’t say you don’t need a bath,” he said. “There is a certain primitive charm, however, in listening to your nightly efforts at hygiene. A real exercise in creativity.”

“Mine in making them or yours in listening?” she retorted.

Without warning, he moved closer. His concentration on the scene outside had intensified, in spite of the absurdity of the conversation they were having. And she had known all along that he had begun it to keep her mind off what was going on. Paige pressed back against the wall, allowing him greater access to the crack through which they had been keeping an eye on the search.

“All mine,” he said, his gaze still directed outside. Then he added, “And believe me, Daniels, I’m very creative.”

He was so near that she could feel his breath against her cheek. They had existed in this same kind of intimacy for weeks, compelled into physical proximity by the demands of the mission and by their living conditions. Despite that enforced closeness, things had never gotten anywhere near any other kind of intimacy.

At the beginning, if Josh Stone had attempted to initiate some sort of physical relationship, it would have made her uneasy. And she would have resisted. By now she was curious, to put it mildly, why things had never progressed beyond the easy camaraderie they shared. Stone’s notorious self-control? Or the fact that he didn’t find her desirable? She had to admit his lack of interest had piqued hers, despite her determination not to succumb to his reputed charms.

They had talked about everything under the sun in the long, cold evenings they had spent together. And she had been fascinated by the breadth of his knowledge on subjects ranging from rock and roll to Eastern mysticism. Not once, however, had the talk turned personal. Not until now.

She turned toward him again, at least as much as the close confines of their positions allowed. Josh was still focused on the soldiers outside, and the slant of late afternoon light coming in through the crack illuminated his face.

His skin had been darkened by the never-ceasing wind of this rugged, mountainous country. He hadn’t had a haircut in the four months they had been here. His hair’s natural curl was obvious as it had never been when he was able to keep it close-cropped, which was the way he preferred to wear it. And it was almost as dark as the hole they were cowering in, as black as the thick lashes that the shadowed those pale blue eyes.

His features, taken individually, weren’t extraordinary. Actually, they were harsh. Hard-bitten. His face was dominated by its bone structure: a Roman beak of a nose, high cheekbones, and a determined jaw. Tonight the shadow of several days’ growth of whiskers gave it a truly cutthroat aspect.

Joshua Stone was certainly capable of cutting a throat or two if he felt doing that would be in the best interests of his country. Perfectly capable, she thought, her eyes still examining that unusual combination of features.

They were not a satisfactory explanation of why this man had proven so compelling to her. Maybe it was the contradictions that fascinated her. His almost forbidding looks hid a reckless, devil-may-care personality. And those austere features included a mobile mouth that tilted into a smile at the slightest provocation. During the four brutal months they had spent in this devastated country, Josh had never lost his sense of humor or his patience. And she had sorely tried both.

He turned his head, meeting her eyes. “What is that you do every night?”

Think about you. “Sponge bath,” she said aloud.

“That’s my girl,” he said, turning back to the view through the crack. She watched the visible corner of his lips lift. “Sponge bath, huh?”

“I prefer not to become one of the great unwashed.”

“Implying I have?”

“Well…” she said, drawing the word out.

Suddenly his body, which was pressed against hers, tensed. Paige’s gaze flew back to the slit in the wall. One of the soldiers was coming toward them, his eyes sweeping the area in front of him, rifle held at the ready. She didn’t need the warning glance Josh shot her before he turned back to the crack.

Unconsciously, Paige held her breath as the soldier approached. Like most of his comrades, his boots were old and broken, his uniform a collection of mismatched garments, which had probably been purchased from Soviet military surplus long before the rebellion had broken out. None of which meant he wouldn’t know how to use the weapon he carried. Or wouldn’t be as willing to kill for his country as Joshua Stone would be.

As she would be? Paige wondered. She had gotten brave enough one night to confess to Josh that she’d have a real problem killing any of these people if they were forced to fight their way out of this beleaguered republic. After all, she had said, these aren’t the bad guys.

And she had not forgotten his answer: “Good guys or bad, if they shoot you, Daniels, you’ll be dead. Believe me, whatever you may feel about them, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

She blocked the ongoing mental debate about what she would do in that worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t happen, she told herself, just as she had since they had begun this. She wouldn’t be faced with that decision. Not now. For all intents and purposes they were through, their mission complete. All they had to do was get to the border, which was less than five miles away, and wait for their contact to pick them up.

All they had to do. Those had been Josh’s words. And he didn’t seem to feel that the fact that those five miles were crawling with rebel forces searching for what they were trying to smuggle out of the country would make any difference.

The soldier shouted something over his shoulder. Despite her familiarity with the languages in the region and the crash course the CIA had given them in this specific one just before they’d left, she couldn’t understand the idiomatic dialect he was using. However, the sweeping gesture that urged the others to join him was universal.

She glanced at Josh again. Without looking her way, he held his semiautomatic up in one hand and pointed to it with the other. Only then did she realize she didn’t have her weapon out.

Pushing against Josh to let him know he had to give her some room, she unbuttoned the middle buttons of her parka and reached inside, her palm closing around the metallic weight of her own pistol. She held it for a second or two, and then she made herself pull it out. By that time there were two other soldiers converging toward their hiding place.

The building she and Josh had taken shelter in had once been some kind of government office. The top stories had been destroyed in one of the Russian air strikes, as had most of the rest of the village, with the exception of an old stone church, which was fairly intact. That had been the first place Josh had considered, but he had rejected it in favor of this one.

This particular building had collapsed inward, spilling structural debris from the top floors into the basement. The subfloor of the bottom story had been left partially intact, however, and it was under that part, sheltered against one of the outside walls, that they were hiding. The foundation had cracked as the building came crashing down, and they were looking out through a narrow separation that had opened up between the subfloor and the stones of the cellar.

They had had to crawl through a maze of fallen beams, broken boards and plaster to get into this corner. At the time, she had been relieved because it had seemed incredibly safe. Directly over their heads, the subfloor sloped toward the center of the basement, leaving just enough room for her to stand upright and be able to look out. Josh, who was taller by a good five or six inches, had to stoop to see out of the crack.

Two other soldiers had now joined the one outside. There could be no doubt that their attention was on this structure. One of them walked forward, stepping up onto the boards directly above her and Josh. Paige ducked her head, closing her eyes as a rain of dirt and broken mortar showered down on them.

The soldier’s boots echoed across the wooden floor above. He was making his way slowly because of the treacherous angle at which the boards inclined and the danger that the damaged floor might collapse under his weight. Which wouldn’t be a good thing for him or for them, Paige thought.

If he did make it across, on the far side of the cellar, clearly visible, was the set of steps they had climbed down this afternoon. The top ones had been exposed by the shattered floor joists, and from there the path she and Josh had taken across the debris-strewn basement wouldn’t be hard to follow. Their footprints would be obvious in the dust that had filtered down after the building’s collapse.

She felt Josh shift so that he was facing the opposite direction, looking behind them now. His movements had been painstakingly careful and almost noiseless, so as not to draw the attention of the soldiers outside. He was trying to get into a defensive position if the one who was in the building found them.

If that happened, Josh would be counting on her to take out the others before they could come inside. And then he would expect her to prevent the soldiers on the other side of the square from joining in the fray. Moving as quietly as Josh had, she raised her weapon, training the muzzle on the two men waiting outside.

Above their heads, the footsteps stopped. Paige didn’t know if that was because the soldier had found the broken beams too dangerous to cross or because he had spotted the cellar steps.

She heard him call out something to the others. One of the words had been stairs, she knew, but she didn’t get much of the rest. Under the assault of adrenaline, her mind seemed numb, focused only on the two men outside, who were her responsibility.

She put her left hand around the stock of the pistol, steeling herself to pull the trigger. That’s all she had to do. Point and squeeze. Don’t think. Just point it and keep squeezing until it’s over.

As the two began to move forward, she could hear the other soldier behind her now, much closer than he had been before. He must be at least part of the way down the steps, and unconsciously, she tightened her grip on the gun.

And then, suddenly, the two outside began looking over their shoulders. Shifting her gaze to that direction, she watched a military transport pull into the village square. The sound of its engine finally reached her ears, a few seconds after the men outside had become aware of it.

The truck seemed as dated as the rebels’ weapons, but given its olive drab color, there was no doubt what it was. Or, after a moment, why it was here. There were distant shouts, and the troops who had been searching the rubble began to trot toward the truck and clamber up onto the open bed. One of the soldiers standing outside the building where she and Josh were hiding turned back and called to their companion.

There was an exchange of shouts. Holding her breath again, Paige listened as the searcher’s footsteps began to retrace his route over the broken boards above their heads. The dust dislodged by his passage this time was less than before.

Then the soldier jumped off the subfloor right in front of the crack. Paige flinched involuntarily with the thud his combat boots made when they hit the ground.

As the three began to walk toward the truck, one of the others threw an affectionate arm around the shoulders of the man who had been in the process of descending into the basement. Consoling him? And then, laughing at something he said in response, the three began to jog toward the truck.

Neither she nor Josh said anything until the rebel forces were all aboard. As soon as they were, the transport began to move, lumbering out onto the main street with a belch of smoke from the exhaust and an ominous grinding of gears. As the sound of its laboring engine faded into the twilight, silence descended over the remains of what had once been a thriving community.

“Close call,” she said. Her heart was beginning to slow, beating in her chest rather than crowding her throat.

“The very best kind,” Josh said softly, his eyes still scanning the deserted village.

Looking for what? she wondered. Someone left behind to secure this place? To see if anything suspicious popped up after the rest of the unit departed?

The two of them wouldn’t show themselves, of course. Not until he was sure there was no one there. The Joshua Stone she had come to know in these four months took nothing for granted.

“What does that mean?” she asked, willing her voice to steadiness. “The ‘best’ kind. As far as I’m concerned there isn’t a ‘good’ close call.”

He turned, his eyes examining her features, which she imagined showed the strain of the last few minutes. “A good close call is one you survive, Daniels. A little danger gets the juices flowing. Keeps you young,” he said.

Paige felt as if she had aged ten years while she’d been waiting for the soldier to discover them. “You, maybe,” she said. “I don’t think danger has that same effect on me.”

“So what effect does it have on you?”

She hesitated a moment, and then she said truthfully, “It makes me glad to be alive.”

“And makes you appreciate life in a way you don’t think about too often,” he suggested.

He was right, of course. She was very glad to be alive. She wasn’t sure, however, if that equated to feeling more alive. Or to feeling younger. As for those flowing juices, there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in her body to work up a good spit. Her mouth was dry, hands trembling. Only with that observation did she realize that she was still holding her weapon.

“Think it’s safe to put this away?” she asked, lifting the pistol as she glanced up to find Josh’s eyes were on her face. They were again illuminated by the light which filtered in through the crack. For the first time since she’d known him, their blue seemed dark. Mysterious and unfathomable.

And his face was set, harder than she had ever seen it before, a tic visible in the tightness of his jaw. As she watched, his lips flattened. Then he turned his head, looking out through the narrow opening once more. She felt the breath he took, deep and uneven.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He turned to face her, his eyes assessing. Then he stepped back, bending and laying his weapon on the concrete floor. He shrugged out of the camouflage backpack he was wearing, propping it carefully against the wall. Her eyes followed those movements. When Josh straightened, she expected some kind of explanation. Instead he simply looked at her again.

Unspoken permission to put her own gun away, as she had asked? If so, she wasn’t averse. Especially since she understood that would mean Josh felt they were no longer at risk.

They would probably wait out the night here. It was as good a place as any, especially since the village had already been searched. In the morning, according to plan, they would head for the border, deliver what they had been sent here to retrieve, and then get the hell out of Dodge. And despite Josh’s teasing, that hot bath was going to feel very good.