Where is her twin?

Gage Drummond’s ex-fiancée is missing and in grave danger. Her identical twin sister is his only chance of finding her. But an accident has left Mallory Roth with amnesia. Still, Mallory is more than willing to help search for answers to secure Alyssa’s safe return. But it soon becomes clear that Mallory isn’t acting like herself. In fact, minute by minute, Mallory reminds Gage more and more of the woman he’s desperate to find. And with one sister missing and another missing memories, it’s obvious their enemies are playing for keeps. Can they discover the truth—before it’s too late?

“You’re not Mallory, you’re Alyssa.”

Gage knew he was right. An overwhelming relief washed over him.

“And you know this—how?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Earlier you asked me if I believed in God, and I do. So does Alyssa. But Mallory’s not a churchgoer. Aly…you talked about it.”

Slowly she shook her head. “I think you’re just saying this to make yourself feel better.”

“Feel better about what?” he demanded.

“About how close we came to kissing back there on the sidewalk.”

He remembered that moment, when their faces had been close. Too close. “Nothing happened,” he denied swiftly. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be glad to know your true identity.”

“But I don’t know my true identity, do I?” she countered. “Telling me I’m Alyssa or Mallory doesn’t really change anything. I’m not anyone until I can remember for myself.”

He didn’t want to admit she was right. While he might be convinced she really was Alyssa, the truth didn’t change anything.

She still couldn’t remember. Not her identity and not anything related to the danger they were in.

LAURA SCOTT

grew up reading faith-based romance books by Grace Livingston Hill, but as much as she loved the stories, she longed for a bit more mystery and suspense. She is honored to write for the Love Inspired Suspense line, where a reader can find a heartwarming journey of faith amid the thrilling danger.

Laura lives with her husband of over twenty-five years and has two children, a daughter and a son, who are both in college. She works as a critical-care nurse during the day at a large level-one trauma center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and spends her spare time writing romance.

Please visit Laura at www.laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Identity Crisis

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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All the prophets testify about him,

that everyone who believes in him

receives forgiveness of sins through his name.

—Acts 10:43

This book is dedicated to my wonderful in-laws Ted and Pat Iding, who welcomed me into their family twenty-seven years ago and have loved me like a daughter. Thanks for always being there.

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

ONE

Alyssa Roth pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up to cover her newly cropped blond hair as she cautiously approached her town house. She couldn’t imagine why her twin sister might have come to her place, but she’d searched all Mallory’s usual spots over the past few hours, without success. She’d called and left messages at Mallory’s condo and on her cell. She was feeling desperate. She had to find her twin and warn her of the danger.

The hour was close to midnight, so there weren’t many people out and about, but that didn’t stop her from casting a worried glance over her shoulder. She’d taken a bus from a park-and-ride close to the motel and walked the rest of the way. Using her key, she opened the door and quickly crossed the threshold, locking the door behind her.

The interior was dark so if Mallory was there, she must be sleeping. She pulled a small penlight out of her pocket, unwilling to risk the overhead lights that would effectively broadcast her presence to anyone who might be watching.

Holding the light low at her side, she walked through the kitchen into the living room. She caught an unexpected flash of glitter, and relief washed over her as she realized Mallory’s hair clip was on the table beside the sofa.

“Mallory,” she whispered loudly as she headed down the hall toward her bedroom. “Wake up. You can’t stay here! I’m in danger. I’m being followed and believe it or not, a cop actually tried to kill me!”

There was no response, and when she pushed open the door to her bedroom, her burst of hope faded when she saw the bed was empty. She took two steps into the room before she noticed the dark puddle staining the floor. She stared at it, slowly realizing it was blood.

Too much blood.

Dread sucked the oxygen from her lungs and she stumbled backward, hitting the door frame hard in her effort to get away. What had happened here? Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to stay long enough to sweep her light over the room, half-afraid she’d find Mallory’s body. She even went as far as to check the closet and under the bed. Nothing. The only item out of place was a bright yellow blouse, lying crumpled in the far corner, darkly stained with blood.

The hair clip and yellow blouse proved Mallory had been here recently. Alyssa swayed. Nausea threatened to erupt from her stomach in a violent heave. As a nurse, she knew there was too much blood to believe Mallory had escaped unscathed. She stared at the yellow blouse, a sinking realization making her knees weak.

The blouse wasn’t Mallory’s. It was the blouse she’d bought for herself last week. Her blouse. Her town house. Both full of blood.

She sagged against the door for support as her mind whirled with possibilities. The night before, Councilman Schaefer had gripped her hand and whispered that he’d been stabbed by a hired thug working for Hugh Jefferson. Stunned, she’d gone straight to the authorities, but Officer Crane had brushed aside her concern.

She thought his response was odd, but one minute they were preparing Schaefer for surgery, the next he was dead. Later that night, after her shift at the hospital, a dark blue van tried to run her car off the road and she’d caught a glimpse of Officer Crane’s ruddy face before she managed to avoid the crash.

Fearing for her life, she hadn’t gone home. She’d checked into a run-down motel and spent the next twelve hours changing her appearance so she looked like Mallory, buying tight clothing and a gaudy purse. She went to the DMV for a new ID and obtained a fake tattoo above her collarbone to match her twin’s.

Now she realized her efforts were in vain. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the yellow blouse, feeling sick as she realized what must have transpired. Mallory probably had another fight with her ex and had come here to find Alyssa for support. Only, Crane or Jefferson must have been watching her town house and killed Mallory by mistake.

Alyssa was the one who knew how Jefferson had killed Schaefer. She was the one Crane had tried to run off the road. She was the one they wanted to silence.

Not Mallory.

Her fault. Her stomach twisted and she shoved a fist in her mouth to silence the scream building in her chest. This was all her fault. Mallory was the only family she had left in the world. And now her twin was gone. Likely dead. Brutally murdered.

Bands of self-reproach tightened around her throat, squeezing tight. Sheer desperation had forced her to break her cardinal rule by borrowing Mallory’s identity. But she shouldn’t have rested until she found a way to warn Mallory.

Now it was too late.

Dear Lord, forgive me. Please forgive me!

A shrill whine of police sirens split the night air. Guilt surrendered to fear. She didn’t know who had called the police, possibly a neighbor. Had they heard Mallory’s scream? She didn’t want to think about how her twin must have struggled, fighting for her life. With an effort, she focused on the present. She had to get out of there. Now. She couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not the police.

Run! Run! One last glance over her shoulder at the blood-stained blouse ripped her heart in two. She didn’t want to leave. But nothing good would come of staying here. She imagined if Mallory was here, her sister would be shouting at her to run. Don’t let them find you, Alyssa. Go! Run!

Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. Galvanized by self-preservation, Alyssa clicked off the penlight and ran down the hall, through the open kitchen and living area, pausing only long enough to snatch the glittery hair clip from the table, stuffing it in her purse as she headed to the front door. Her hand clutched the doorknob. She paused, her heart thundering in her chest. The sirens grew louder. Closer. Too close. The back door?

Spinning on her heel, she retraced her steps, crossing the room toward the kitchen door. She stumbled against the table, unable to see. She swiped at her tears, finally finding the door. Sirens continued to echo outside. Did the police know she was here? Was Officer Crane right now trying to find her?

She left the town house, sprinting into the darkness. The windows in her neighbor’s houses were dark—no one was up this late. So who’d called the police? Frantic, she stopped between buildings, trying to think. Indecision held her captive. Finally she ran to the right, through the darkness of her neighbor’s backyard.

She ran as fast as she dared. Her heart thundered in her ears. Panic swelled, choking her. The need to move quietly battled a savage desperation to put as much distance between her and the bloody town house as possible.

Don’t stop. Don’t let them find you. Run!

Where should she go? What should she do? Whom should she trust?

Gage. She needed to find Gage. Her ex-fiancé hadn’t believed her when she’d claimed Hugh Jefferson was dangerous. She didn’t know why Jefferson had killed Schaefer, but she was convinced everything was related to the hotly contested condos Gage had been hired to build. After Schaefer’s claims, she’d called Gage, warned him to stay away from Hugh Jefferson but he’d waved off her concerns. Surely Gage would believe her now. Besides, whom else could she trust?

No one. Only Gage.

She’d broken off their engagement because of Gage’s lackluster faith and his overprotective ways. But right now, she longed for his protection, to feel the strength of his arms around her. To bury her face in the safe haven of his chest.

Her breath scissored from her lungs as she ran through alley after alley, backyard after backyard. Shadows in the normally innocuous Milwaukee suburb loomed ominously. She ducked beneath a low-hanging tree branch, its green leaves rustling in the summer night. The sirens went abruptly and eerily silent. Had they arrived at her town house? Did they discover they’d killed the wrong twin? Identical twins didn’t have the same fingerprints, so it wouldn’t be long before they discovered the truth. Were they out searching for her now? She was too scared to turn around and look.

Dear Lord, help me! Guide me! Keep me safe!

Her breath burned in her chest, threatening to give out for good. She ran for what seemed like forever, but what was probably only thirty to forty minutes. She was in a neighborhood she didn’t recognize, but she was too afraid to slow down. The ground beneath her feet abruptly sloped downward. She missed a step. Her ankle twisted sharply under her weight. Pain knifed up her leg. She gasped and fell hard.

The world somersaulted as she rolled down the steep hill, momentum carrying her faster and faster until she smacked bottom. Her skull met the concrete sidewalk with a hard crack. Fireworks of pain exploded in her head.

A velvet shroud of darkness surrounded her.

* * *

“Alyssa? Are you there? Pick up the phone!” Gage Drummond scowled as he paused, then added in a calmer tone, “Alyssa, please, please call me as soon as you get this message.” He flipped the phone shut, hating the feeling of helplessness.

Where was she? The hospital had called him to pick up Mallory because they couldn’t reach Alyssa. One of Alyssa’s coworkers had assumed he and Alyssa were still engaged and instead of correcting her, he’d agreed to come and get Mallory, hoping to get back into Alyssa’s good graces.

Unfortunately, his good deed backfired, because he couldn’t get in touch with Alyssa, either. He slipped his phone into his pocket and propped one shoulder against the dingy waiting room wall of Trinity Medical Center’s emergency department.

Exhaustion weighed his eyelids. He considered borrowing a cup of the E.D.’s special coma coffee reserved for the graveyard shift. Strong enough to bring you out of a coma, or so Alyssa had claimed.

The memory hurt. He dug his thumbs into his eye sockets in an attempt to ease the pain. Bitter failure coated his tongue. He knew it was his fault she’d left him. But he didn’t know how to fix their broken relationship.

Heaving a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and glanced around the waiting room. Surprisingly quiet for a Friday night, or rather early Saturday morning. A homeless man rocked in the corner, keeping a tight hold on his paper sack. One kid within a group of three—all looking like candidates for a Milwaukee gang with spiked hair dyed garish colors and rows of heavy silver chains encircling their necks—held a bloody bandage over his arm. An elderly woman coughed into a tissue and huddled in her seat, as far from the gang wannabes as she could get.

Gage ground his teeth together, detesting the idea of Alyssa working in this place every day. Shortly after she’d agreed to marry him, a junkie strung out on drugs had swung at her, knocking her to the ground and nearly breaking her jaw. He’d been appalled and angry—but even then, she’d refused to quit. Despite some serious arm-twisting on his part. He’d wanted her to stay home, to be safe. Or at the very least, to find a different type of nursing job. What was wrong with working in a nice clinic somewhere? His construction company was doing well enough that he could support both of them, but she wouldn’t even discuss the possibility. She’d claimed she liked her job, even the part that required her to care for patients who threatened to harm her.

Gage willed the painful memories away. He was here because he needed to find a way to win Alyssa back. Getting up at two-thirty in the morning and picking up Mallory after her accident should win him some extra credit points, right?

“Gage?” Jennifer, the nurse who’d thought he and Alyssa were still engaged, poked her head into the waiting room. “You can see Mallory now.”

Relieved to put the depressing sight of the waiting room behind him, he straightened and followed Jennifer into the arena, an open area surrounded by cubicles. His steel-toed construction boots clunked loudly against the shiny linoleum floor. A sweeping glance at the various employees clustered around the center workstation made him wonder if any of them knew where Alyssa might be. He frowned. He’d dialed her town house at least twenty times since the hospital called. Why hadn’t she answered?

Another man? Gage stumbled, managing to catch himself even though his gut twisted painfully. Logically, he knew Alyssa’s personal life wasn’t any of his business, since she’d broken off their engagement two months ago. A spear of pain stabbed his heart. When she’d given him the ring back, Alyssa’s reasons were that he was too overprotective and that he didn’t have a close relationship with God. He couldn’t figure out what she’d meant. After all, he’d done everything she’d asked of him.

He went to church with her, hadn’t he? And he’d joined her Bible study group. It wasn’t his fault that he had to work late, missing most of the sessions. He owned his own business and couldn’t just switch shifts to get off work the way she did.

After she’d walked out, he’d wondered if maybe the basic truth was simply that Alyssa hadn’t loved him. A possibility that had hurt, more than he’d ever imagined it could.

He scowled, pushing the pain aside, and walked into the doorway of the small cubicle. His gaze rested on his ex-fiancée’s twin sister. He didn’t particularly care for Mallory. She was so completely different from Alyssa. But since she was Alyssa’s sister, he made an effort.

“Hey, Mallory,” he greeted her with forced politeness. “What happened? How are you feeling?”

She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. A square white bandage partially covered a large abrasion on her forehead. Gage sucked in a quick breath; the physical resemblance shouldn’t have caught him off guard, but it did. Mallory’s blond hair was shoulder length and wavy, whereas Alyssa wore hers much longer and straight. Blue eyes, identical to Alyssa’s, stared suspiciously into his.

He’d subtly avoided his fiancée’s twin because he hadn’t appreciated the way Mallory had flirted with him before they’d gotten engaged. Alyssa had brushed it off as Mallory’s way of protecting her twin, making sure he would be true to Alyssa, but he didn’t buy that theory. He suspected Mallory either wanted to get rid of him, because she was jealous of his relationship with Alyssa, or that she’d wanted to steal him away for herself.

He could have saved her the trouble, because despite their broken engagement, his heart belonged to Alyssa.

Mallory was completely different from Alyssa in too many ways to count. Alyssa upheld her Christian beliefs in everything she said and did, including her stubborn dedication to her career as a trauma nurse. Mallory, on the other hand, was outgoing, known to be the life of the party and an outrageous flirt.

Both women were beautiful on the outside, but in his opinion, only Alyssa had the same beauty deep within. Mallory’s personality held a hard edge, whereas Alyssa’s was softly inviting.

He missed Alyssa. Desperately. He tried not to dwell on the past, but it wasn’t easy. Mallory wordlessly glared at him with distinct annoyance. The corner of her hospital gown slipped off to the side, providing him a distasteful glimpse of the rose and dagger tattoo she wore just below her collarbone.

He quickly averted his gaze, wishing he could just leave. But his job was to get Mallory home. Surely he could manage something so simple.

“Are you ready?” he asked with forced brightness. “I think you’re about to be released, so let’s bust out of here.” There was no sign of the nurse, Jennifer. Where had she gone? To get the discharge paperwork, he hoped. Reluctantly, he tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he slowly approached Mallory’s bedside.

She bolted upright like a shot, bringing up a hand as if to keep him at bay. “Hold it! Who are you? You don’t work here.” Her suspicious gaze sliced him. “Get out!”

Get out? Was she kidding? He ignored the tiny hairs on the back of his neck that rose in alarm. “Yeah. Very funny.”

“This isn’t one bit funny.” She tugged her gown higher over her chest but thrust her chin in the direction of the door. “I told you to get out.”

Gage held out his hands in mock surrender. “You’re upset about being stuck with me? Well, too bad. They called me because you have a concussion and can’t drive. If I leave, how are you going to get home?”

For a long moment she stared at him, as if he were an alien creature she needed to dissect with X-ray vision. “Home?”

“Yes. Home.” He sighed, desperately seeking patience. “To your fancy downtown condo. The sooner I can drop you off, the sooner you’ll be rid of me.” And then his good deed for the day would be finished.

She reached up with one hand and massaged her temple. “I can’t— Let’s try this again.” Dropping her hand, she leveled a look at him full of uncertainty. “Who are you?”

He stared at her in suspicious shock. Was this some sort of weird game? If so, he wasn’t in the mood. He’d already spent his entire evening solving problems at three of his construction sites and had gotten less than four hours of sleep. No way was he doing this.

“Fine. You don’t want me to take you home? Then I’m outta here.” He spun on his heel but Jennifer walked into the room, blocking his escape route.

“Mallory?” The nurse glanced past him but didn’t move from the door. “Dr. Anderson is writing your discharge note as we speak. Would you like to get dressed?”

“No. I want to know what’s going on.” The tone of her voice held a note of desperation. “Who is this guy? My head hurts. You’re telling me to go home, but where is home? Why can’t I remember anything?”

Dumbfounded, Gage swiveled toward her. Mallory’s confused-yet-defiant gaze met his without an ounce of recognition. Doubt assailed him. Could she honestly be telling the truth?

The nurse was taken aback by Mallory’s questions, too. “Since when can’t you remember? You didn’t say anything when Dr. Anderson examined you.”

Mallory massaged her temple again, wincing beneath the pressure of her fingers. “I can’t think straight with this headache.” She frowned, picking at one corner of the blanket covering her. “It wasn’t until this guy mentioned going home that I realized I couldn’t remember.”

Gage sighed and dropped heavily into a chair beside her bed. Thoughts of returning home for sleep anytime soon faded faster than an early-morning mist. What was going on? Was it possible Mallory really couldn’t remember anything?

Jennifer clearly thought so. “I better find Dr. Anderson.”

Unfortunately, the doctor didn’t have any more advice to give them. He examined Mallory again, asking a barrage of questions. She knew which year it was and the president of the United States, but not anything personal about herself.

“What’s your address?”

“I don’t know.” Mallory closed her eyes in frustration. Knuckles white, her fists clenched the sheets. She sucked in a loud breath. “I don’t understand. What is wrong with me? How can I forget my address?”

“Do you remember any members of your family?” the doctor persisted.

“No.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “But I could be an only child.”

Gage nearly laughed until he realized she was serious. An only child? Mallory and Alyssa were close, despite their completely different personalities. How could she forget her twin sister?

“Hmm.” The doctor frowned and tabbed through the computer screens, reviewing parts of Mallory’s electronic medical chart. “There aren’t many details regarding your accident. You were found lying on a concrete sidewalk by a neighbor who was coming home after work. Your purse contained some cash and an ID, so we don’t really believe this was a mugging. And certainly nothing to indicate a cause for amnesia.”

“What do you mean nothing to indicate a cause for her amnesia?” Gage straightened—his interest piqued, in spite of himself.

The doctor shrugged. “Retrograde amnesia is often the result of a traumatic event combined with a head injury. Mallory has some short-term memory still intact, which even more strongly indicates a traumatic psychological event. However, without knowing what the source of the potential trauma could be, there really isn’t anything we can do. We’ve already performed a CT scan of her head and didn’t find any bleeding. When her brain can handle her memory, I’m sure it will return.”

Gage rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “So now what? Does she need to stay here? Get more tests?”

“No, that’s not necessary. We’ve ruled out a head bleed. More tests aren’t going to give any input into the source of her amnesia. I’d recommend she be released home, with instructions to follow up with her primary-care doctor in a week. But she really shouldn’t be left alone. At least, not until her memory begins to return.”

“I’m sure her sister will keep her company.” Gage sighed again. Once he managed to find her.

He hoped, prayed, Alyssa hadn’t found someone new. Someone from her church, who went to every single Bible study group meeting no matter what. Someone who may have already replaced him in her heart.

“Good. We’ll finish that discharge paperwork.”

Gage fell silent after the doctor left the room. He was surprised to find he felt sorry for Mallory. In her current, injured state, he found her less irritating. Although the situation frustrated him to no end. Where was Alyssa?

“A sister? I have a sister?”

He lifted his gaze to meet her abruptly hopeful one. His annoyance faded a bit. “Yeah. Your parents are gone, but you do have a sister. Alyssa is your twin and she’s an amazing person.”

Mallory’s gaze turned curious. “Wow. Sounds like you care about her.”

“Yes, I do. Very much,” he answered honestly.

“Alyssa.” She repeated the name, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “It’s so wrong not to remember a twin sister. But the name seems right. Mallory and Alyssa. We’re close?”

“Yes, you’re close,” Gage admitted, because it was true. Despite their differences, the twins always stood by each other no matter what.

“Where is she?” Mallory looked perplexed. “If we’re close, why isn’t she here?”

“Good question.” He reached for his cell phone and redialed. After several long rings there was no answer. He didn’t bother leaving another message. “We’ll have to stop over there tomorrow. For now, we’ll go back to your place. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“The sofa?” Her blue eyes, so much like Alyssa’s, widened in horror. “I’d rather you slept in your car. What part of this don’t you understand? I don’t know you!”

Her barely restrained annoyance gave more credence to her story than anything else could have. She looked at him as if she detested the sight of him. And maybe she did. He couldn’t figure Mallory out. Had never really wanted to.

With a frown, Gage stood. Mallory was more tolerable with amnesia, but he still longed to drop her off as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he was stuck with her until he could find her twin.

So where on earth was Alyssa?

TWO

Even after the hospital staff finally left her alone, she couldn’t relax. Her pulse skipped erratically in her chest. Panic clawed up and over her back. Why couldn’t she remember?

She fought for control against the invisible demons that snarled in her mind, holding her memory hostage. Logic told her she was in the hospital, but nothing looked familiar. The room was little more than a cubicle, three walls but no real door, just a privacy curtain drawn across the opening. She clutched the blanket tighter. She felt exposed. The flimsy curtain wouldn’t protect her. Anyone could come in at any time. Anyone.

Like the tall, ruggedly handsome stranger waiting to take her home.

Run! Run! The urge to flee merged with panic. Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong. Certainty seeped into her bones, injecting her with the strength to move. She scrambled from the bed, wincing as her swollen and sprained ankle zinged when her foot hit the floor, and reached for her clothes. Maybe she didn’t feel entirely safe around the large, sandy-haired man with the square jaw and golden-brown eyes, but she wasn’t afraid of him, either. She grasped the slight distinction eagerly.

Her mind felt as if she were swimming through fog with no shore in sight. She pulled on her jeans, pausing when she noticed two small dark stains. Dried blood? From her head? She put a hand to the bruise above her forehead. No. Her throat closed and she gagged. From someone else. She wildly kicked the jeans off, chest heaving from the effort, pain searing her ankle. The denim landed halfway across the room. Frantic, she rifled through the linens on the cart next to the bed. What could she wear? Scrubs maybe?

“Are you ready?” The deep male voice from the other side of the curtain startled her. She stumbled against the bed, clumsily covering herself with the blanket from the bed.

“No! Stay out!” She stayed where she was until convinced he wasn’t coming in. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, fighting a wave of dizziness. Come on, get a grip. Steeling her resolve, she forced herself to limp across the room to fetch the dreaded clothes. With an effort she donned the midriff-baring T-shirt and hip-hugging jeans.

The name Mallory seemed right but the clothes felt foreign. Wearing such tightly fitting jeans and T-shirt was embarrassing. Why did she wear them? Didn’t she care if others stared? Mallory gave her head a shake, and then winced as the pickax hammering in her head intensified.

This wasn’t the time to worry about her clothes. Focus. She needed to focus. Urgency propelled her forward. With a suppressed shiver she pulled on the lightweight denim jacket. The bottom of the jacket barely met the waistband on her jeans. She tugged on it, as if she could will it longer, and then gave up. Close enough.

She picked up the huge, gaudy purse, slung it over her shoulder and yanked the curtain aside with a snap. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

His gaze raked over her and she fought the urge to tug once more on the short hem of her T-shirt. His amber eyes held no clue to his thoughts. “Great.”

He led the way through the emergency room, keeping his pace slow so she could keep up with her bum ankle. She swept a glance over the occupants of the waiting room, her attention snagged by a hacking cough. Despite her desire to leave as quickly as possible, her steps slowed to a stop.

An elderly woman sat huddled in a corner, her lips as blue as her hair. Mallory abruptly changed course, heading toward the woman, who held a crumpled, blood-stained tissue in the palm of her hand. The poor woman looked as if she was ready to take her last breath.

“Get a doctor over here, now!” Mallory called out to a passing nurse. “This woman’s on the verge of respiratory arrest.”

The harried nurse sputtered an argument but then noticed the same bluish tinge to the woman’s lips that had drawn Mallory’s attention. “I’ll get an oxygen tank.”

Seconds later, the nurse hurried over wheeling an oxygen tank. She cranked up the dial and placed an oxygen mask over the elderly woman’s face. “Take a deep breath, Mrs. Sullivan. We’re going to get you into a room right now.” The nurse touched a button on a device hanging from a lanyard around her neck that must have functioned like some sort of intercom. “Steve, I need a wheelchair brought into the waiting room, stat.”

Mallory watched as one of the orderlies brought over a wheelchair. Soon, the elderly woman was escorted back. Satisfied, she turned back toward the entrance.

Only to find the tall stranger staring at her in shocked surprise. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you know she was going into respiratory arrest?” His gaze was suspicious and faintly accusing.

Good question. How had she known? “I’m not sure.”

He stared at her again, seemingly at a loss for words. She couldn’t understand his reaction, especially when he abruptly turned and continued walking through the door.

She quickened her gimpy pace, following him through the doors to the parking lot. “Wait! I can’t move that fast!”

He spun around and came back toward her, his face pulled into a grimace. “Sorry,” he muttered, although somehow she suspected that deep down he really wasn’t.

Mallory didn’t know why she annoyed him, but worse, she couldn’t remember his name. Had he even told her? She couldn’t remember. Her head hurt so badly she could barely concentrate.

And suddenly, the nearly invisible thread of control snapped. “Look, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name is, I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. Have you forgotten your promise to take me home? Or are you going to leave me stranded here without a ride?”

“I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she couldn’t help noticing the deep grooves of fatigue bracketing the sides of his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t personal. Maybe he was just tired. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you stranded.”

He seemed to be making an effort to remain calm, adjusting his stride to meet hers, as they headed across the parking lot. He opened the door of a pickup truck and gestured for her to get in. Her tight jeans hindered her movement as she tried to jump into the truck seat.

“Do you need help?”

“No.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she struggled to leverage herself up and into the truck. He waited patiently then closed the door gently but firmly once she was safely inside.

She let out a tiny breath of relief when he climbed in beside her. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to get away from the hospital, but the need to escape couldn’t be ignored. She placed her palms on her thighs, trying to hide the bloodstains. If he saw them, he’d have questions, and unfortunately she didn’t have any answers.

She wished more than anything that she didn’t have to depend on him to take her home. His shoulders strained at the seams of his white cotton shirt as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The cuffs of his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Dark hair sprinkled his skin. She fought the absurd urge to touch him.

“Gage.”

She tore her glance from the mesmerizing strength of his arms. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Gage Drummond. Alyssa and I are—close friends.”

Mallory lobbed the name through the spacious portion of her brain where her memory should have been. Gage was a nice name. “Yes. So you said.”

He kept his eyes glued to the road. “Alyssa is a nurse. She works in the emergency department of Trinity Medical Center.”

“I see.” Mallory filed away that small tidbit of information. She had a twin sister who was a nurse and her boyfriend’s name was Gage. Comforting, to a certain extent, to know she wasn’t completely alone in the world. “Am I a nurse, too?”

“No.” His response was terse. “You’re an interior designer, working for a large architectural firm. You create color schemes for offices, hospitals, that sort of thing. So don’t you think it’s odd that you knew that woman was about to go into respiratory arrest?”

“Her lips were blue,” she said, even though a blanket of unease settled over her, worse than the one she’d felt earlier when she’d woken up in the hospital with a fog-filled brain. The minute she’d noticed the elderly woman in the corner, she’d known something was wrong. Respiratory arrest was when someone stopped breathing. Despite Gage’s claim she was a designer, she must have had some exposure to hospitals. Maybe she’d tried to follow her sister into nursing, but then dropped out? Why on earth couldn’t she remember? Mallory licked suddenly dry lips and tried to shrug. “Everyone knows blue lips are a bad sign.”

Gage’s laugh didn’t hold any mirth. “Yeah, maybe. Or this is part of some weird way of changing yourself into someone I’d like. Don’t bother trying to flirt with me again. I happen to love Alyssa.”

Mallory gaped at him in shock. “What are you talking about?” His comment floored her. Why would she try to flirt with him? Before he became involved with Alyssa? Or after? She felt a little sick that she might have treated her sister that way.

“Never mind,” he said, as if he regretted bringing the subject up in the first place.

Ignoring the pounding in her head, she lifted her chin. “Rest assured I’m not interested in flirting with you.”

“Good.”

Silence hung heavy between them. Mallory shifted her attention to the scenery outside her window, at least the part she could see through the darkness. Arguing with the stranger had temporarily held fear at bay, but without something to occupy her brain, the sense of doom clung, lining her clothes, abrading her skin.

The night swallowed them, yet she felt safer inside the truck next to Gage than she had inside the busy, well-lit emergency department. Why? Why did she feel safer with a stranger? Peering through the window, she sought the source of her earlier apprehension. Was someone out there, looking for her? Whose blood stained her clothes?

Her blank memory didn’t supply any answers. Outside, there was the faintest hue of light near the horizon, telling her dawn wasn’t too far off. Yet dozens of stars still littered the sky. Leafy green trees and mild temperatures told her the season was summer. The seemingly calm and peaceful landscape was at odds with her inner angst.

Where, exactly, were they? Why wouldn’t this haze over her mind go away? She focused on several street signs, seeking even one that seemed familiar. All the while, she was keenly aware of the stranger’s disapproving presence beside her.

Not a stranger. Gage. Gage Drummond. She forced herself to use his name. They weren’t strangers just because she couldn’t remember him. He obviously knew her, at least enough to offer a ride in the middle of the night. But enough to protect her from harm? That she wasn’t sure of. How could she have tried to flirt with him?

She risked a glance at him from beneath her lashes. There was no denying Gage was a very attractive man. Obviously, her sister was a very lucky woman. Her gaze clung to his hand, so strong, so capable on the steering wheel. His arms were firmly muscled and tan as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. She clenched her hands in her lap to keep from reaching out to touch him.

Gage and Alyssa were close, but where was Alyssa now? She found it odd how he didn’t seem to have a clue where to find her. How often did a guy lose his girlfriend? Maybe he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Maybe her sister’s relationship with this man was on the rocks. Mallory swallowed hard. Harboring a secret attraction for her sister’s boyfriend made her a horrible sister. She had to stop thinking about him, right now. So what if Gage exuded a confident strength she was drawn to? A strength she longed to lean upon?

Gage wasn’t anything to her. She didn’t even remember him. Rocky relationship or not, he belonged to Alyssa. Besides, he couldn’t have made his feelings toward her more clear.

Forget about him. Even if Gage didn’t know where her sister was, his feelings were obviously tangled into knots over it. And since she was dependent on him, she decided it was time to make amends. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For whatever I did to put a wedge between you and Alyssa.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “There is no wedge between me and Alyssa. And Mallory doesn’t apologize. Ever.”

She didn’t need her memory to know she couldn’t win this one. She threw her hand up then lightly tapped the side of her temple. “Silly me, I forgot.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Consider my apology rescinded.”

A few minutes later, Gage pulled up in front of a fancy-looking building in the heart of the city. She tensed and stared. Was this some sort of test? Did she really live here?

“Where are we?” She hated having to ask.

“Your place. Do you have your keys?” Gage asked, pausing in the act of opening his door.

“No. I meant what city?”

“Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” He held out his hand patiently. “I need your keys.”

Milwaukee didn’t sound dangerous, but the sense of urgency wouldn’t leave her alone. Mallory pulled open her large, gaudy purse and searched for the keys. She’d already gone through her wallet and found the pitiful amount of cash and her driver’s license. There was also a package of tissues, a glittery hair clip, enough cosmetics to stock several counters at the department store and a hairbrush. No cell phone, which she thought odd. Why wouldn’t she have a cell phone? Finally, her fingers closed around a ring of keys. Feeling relieved, she pulled them out and dangled them in front of him.

Gage grabbed them and jumped out of the truck. She slid out of the passenger side, favoring her ankle as she landed on the sidewalk. She followed him, moving at a much slower pace. The back of her neck tingled when she watched him use her key to gain access to the secured building. He held the door open for her, and Mallory felt admiration for his polite gestures. But before she crossed the threshold, she couldn’t resist a furtive glance over her shoulder. No one lurked behind them. At least not that she could see.

But she kept wondering if someone was out there. Following her. Watching her.

Trying to control a flash of anxiety, she turned her attention to the building where she lived. The place was fancy, all chrome and glass with a decor that reeked of money. Had she designed the color scheme for this building? She guessed the condos inside were not of the traditional postage-stamp variety.

Gage waited, one strong arm holding open the elevator door for her. The elevator was surrounded by glass windows, providing a breathtaking view of the city lights. Yet she couldn’t help feeling exposed, knowing that anyone outside could easily see them standing inside.

She tried to ignore the increasing paranoia. Was that a common reaction for people who had amnesia? Maybe.

When Gage reached over and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor, she was hit by a sense of familiarity. As if she’d done the same thing herself.

Her head ached with the strain of trying to remember. The sense of urgency grew stronger, and she tapped her foot as the elevator slid upward. The flashes of familiarity were encouraging. Maybe her memory would return after she’d gotten into more familiar surroundings. When the elevator doors opened on the fifteenth floor, she eagerly stepped out.

Oddly enough, there was only one door. Did she live in some sort of penthouse? Silently he used her key to gain access. Warily she stepped inside. The condo was huge, decorated with red furniture, black and red kitchen cabinets and white walls. Large windows lined one entire wall, giving her a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan.

“Wow.” Drawn by the cool, calm water, where the sun was just beginning to creep up the horizon, she hobbled to the window. The lake was a balm to her frayed nerves. “I have spectacular taste,” she murmured, impressed with the view.

Gage grunted, hovering in the entrance, as if uncomfortable in her private space. “You obviously like a lot of bold colors.”

Bold colors were an understatement. She wasn’t about to admit that the deep red, blue and black interior had almost made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. She must have liked the furnishings at some point in time. She swept a gaze over the room, noting a short hallway off to the left where she assumed her bedroom and bathroom were located.

“Have anything to drink around here?” Gage asked.

She glanced at him, raising a brow. “How would I know? I’ll have to look.”

When she limped in the direction of her kitchen, he frowned and glanced at her swollen ankle as if he could tell the pain was getting worse with each step. “Stay put, you should rest that ankle. I’ll do it.” He walked toward the fridge and opened the door. She paused, nearly shedding her jacket but then swiftly reconsidering, remembering the midriff-baring T-shirt. Better to stay covered up.

Feeling awkward in her own surroundings, she watched as Gage rummaged around and finally withdrew a jug of orange juice.

“Want some?” He held the container and two glasses. The expression on his face was carefully polite. His cinnamon-colored eyes looked directly into hers.

She dragged her gaze away with an effort. “Sure. I need to take the anti-inflammatory that the doctor prescribed.” She pulled the pill bottle out of her purse. “He assured me it’s only a sprain, but my ankle really hurts.”

The inane conversation didn’t bring the normalcy she desired. She was home, but something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones. There was nothing homey about this condo. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine living there.

He poured her a glass of juice and she stepped closer, wary of invading his space. Silly, considering they were in her condo. She tossed the pills back and quickly took a sip of juice. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat.

“Anything look familiar?” Gage cocked an eyebrow over the rim of his glass.

“No.” She downed the rest of the juice in a big gulp then set the glass down with a thud. The condo should be a safe haven, but a strong sense of disquiet kept her off balance. She fingered the bloodstains on her jeans and then wrapped her arms around her body, warding off a chill.

What would Gage say if she wrapped her arms around his lean waist, asking him to hold her? He was a stranger, but so far he was the only person who made her feel safe. The condo wasn’t much better than the hospital. Would she ever feel safe again? She glanced at Gage, noted the restlessness in his eyes. She didn’t want him to leave, yet he just as clearly didn’t want to stick around.

For a moment panic surged at the thought of being left here alone. She reached out to touch his arm, a solid anchor for her shaky, trembling foundation. “Gage—”

A sizzle of awareness leaped between them. Gage jerked from her touch, sending a wave of juice sloshing to the floor.

Mallory snatched her hand away, her fingers tingling from the solid warmth of his skin.

“I have to go. I’ll check on you later.” Gage hastily set his half-full glass down on the counter. Stepping over the mess, he gave her a wide berth as he headed for the door.

Mallory couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he left the condo. She didn’t understand the urge to beg him not to go. He might be a close friend of her twin, but he was still a stranger. Her knees gave way as she sank onto the nearest chair. Loneliness surrounded her, magnifying her dread.

She didn’t want to stay here, but where could she go? What could she do? Run after Gage? Beg him to take her home with him? Throw herself into his arms?

She buried her face in her hands, full of self-loathing. What kind of person was she? And what sort of mess had she gotten herself into?

* * *

Gage’s hands shook, making it difficult to slide the truck key into the ignition. Finally he jammed the metal home and started the truck with a twist of his wrist. He floored the accelerator, speeding away from Mallory’s high-rise condo as if his life depended on putting distance between them.

His heart nearly hammered its way out of his chest. What was wrong with him? He must have accidently touched Mallory a dozen times in passing and never once experienced the jolt of electricity like the one that just zapped him. He rubbed a shaky hand over the stubble on his chin. He must be losing his mind. Alyssa was the twin he was attracted to. Not Mallory.

Calmer now, he realized he’d reacted that way only because he missed Alyssa. She’d broken things off, but he wanted to win her back. Somehow he’d transposed his feelings for Alyssa onto Mallory. Because Mallory with amnesia wasn’t acting like Mallory. Twisted logic? Maybe. But he couldn’t come up with anything else that made sense.

For a moment he wondered if Alyssa and Mallory had switched places. Was it possible the woman he’d just dropped off was really Alyssa? His chest filled with hope, but then he slowly shook his head. No way. He refused to believe it. Alyssa told him she and Mallory had vowed to never switch identities. And Alyssa always told the truth.

He couldn’t imagine any circumstance where Alyssa would agree to take Mallory’s place. More likely, Mallory’s strange actions arose from some identity crisis, a direct result of her amnesia. And why did he care? Mallory’s amnesia wasn’t his problem anymore. His good deed was finished.

She was Alyssa’s problem now. He didn’t head home but hooked a left turn toward Alyssa’s town house. It was early, five-thirty in the morning, but that didn’t stop him.

Shortly after their engagement, she’d given him a key to keep as a spare and he’d been remiss in returning it, hoping they’d get back together so he wouldn’t need to. Since their split they’d spoken on occasion, civil conversations that had done nothing to fix the true problems between them.

On her front porch, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to knock. She didn’t answer, so he tried one more time to call her cell phone. Still no answer.

Steeling his resolve, he tried the door handle, oddly reassured to find the door locked. Alyssa always locked the door when she was gone. Using the key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The heavy scent of pine cleaner layered with ammonia assaulted his senses. With a frown, he flipped on a switch, flooding the foyer with light. “Alyssa?” His voice reverberated loudly through the room. He stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

Her town house was always impeccably neat and clean, but the thick scent of the cleaner nearly choked him. It was as if the entire place had been doused in the stuff, which was odd, since Alyssa normally used vinegar to clean because it was better for the environment. He poked his head into the kitchen and living room, finding them both empty. The windows were all closed, but the air-conditioning wasn’t turned on. Alyssa preferred fresh air from open windows, especially in the summer. Gage forced himself to walk down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly on the hardwood floor. The pine scent mixed with ammonia grew impossibly stronger.

Her bedroom door hung partially open. Holding his breath, he pushed it the rest of the way until he could see her bed, neatly made. Discovering she wasn’t home didn’t sit well with him.

Where could she be? He knew Alyssa’s Christian values wouldn’t allow her to spend the night with a man. And if she wasn’t with Mallory, or at work, where could she be?

The ammonia scent made his head hurt, so he opened the windows as he walked back through her town house. A sick feeling settled in his gut. Something wasn’t right. Maybe he should call Jonah Stewart. His childhood friend was a detective with the Milwaukee police, and he had connections that would help in looking for Alyssa. But how long had she been gone?

She might not be missing at all. For all he knew, she was with some nursing friends from work. Or visiting a sick friend. He decided to wait here in the town house for her. Surely she’d come home sooner or later.

In the kitchen, the blinking light of the answering machine snagged his gaze. His messages to her would be on there, but what if there were others? A clue to her whereabouts?

Ignoring a flash of guilt, Gage rewound the tape and hit the play button. The first message came through almost immediately.

“Alyssa, this is Kristine from Trinity Medical Center. You requested a two-week personal leave of absence. You know the summer is our busiest time of the year because of increase in trauma patients, but since you sounded desperate, we’ve agreed to grant your leave.”

Stunned, Gage hit the stop button on the machine. A two-week leave of absence? Why in the world would Alyssa desperately need two weeks off? The only family she had left was her sister, Mallory.

Maybe there really was a sick friend somewhere.

He hit the play button again. Aside from the messages he’d left, there were no other messages. Not even one from Mallory.

Gage turned away from the machine. Idly, he opened her fridge. The contents were spartan, no milk or anything that would spoil. Butter, ketchup and mustard, along with a jug of water, were left inside. He closed the door.

The house had been closed up tight and there was nothing to eat. Where had Alyssa gone? The last time he’d spoken to her was just two days ago when she’d called him from work, anxious to get together. Idiot that he was, he’d been thrilled by the idea that she’d wanted a chance to mend their relationship. Then she’d mentioned having grave concerns over his taking on the Jefferson condo project. She knew his construction company had been awarded the contract to build the new Riverside Luxury Condos owned by Hugh Jefferson. Condos that had been hotly debated within the city government for well over a year. She claimed there was something dangerous going on, and she begged him to cancel the contract.

He’d scoffed at her concern. First of all, he needed that contract. And besides, what could be so bad about building condos overlooking the Milwaukee River? The idea was ludicrous.

Until now. Alyssa’s empty town house caused tension to slither like a snake through his belly. He didn’t have any concrete reason to believe she was in danger, but the persistent worry wouldn’t quit. Had something happened to her? Had he failed, again? The image of his dead mother swam in his mind and he shoved it away with effort.

Failure wasn’t an option. Not this time. Because he knew his heart and soul wouldn’t survive if he failed to find and protect Alyssa.

THREE

Since leaving wasn’t an option, Mallory restlessly limped around her penthouse condo, searching for clues to jar her memory. Oddly, there wasn’t an overabundance of personal items lying around. She discovered she had an eclectic taste in music ranging from rap to jazz. Several new-wave art prints were splashed on her walls. Nice, but she couldn’t shake the awful feeling she was looking at her things through a stranger’s eyes.

Bone-weary, she fought off an encroaching wave of fatigue. She blinked and forced her eyes to stay open. There had to be something here that could make her remember who she was. Or why she continued to feel an overwhelming sense of doom. Hoping to find more personal items, she headed down the hall, toward the bedroom.

On the dresser she found a framed snapshot of her and Alyssa. She picked up the photo, surprised to realize just how much they looked alike physically. Alyssa was easy to identify, since she was conservatively dressed and wore her long blond hair pulled back in a French braid. Alyssa’s expression was full of joy, and she proudly wore a modest diamond on the third finger of her left hand.

In contrast, Mallory wore a slinky rose-colored dress, and despite the bright smile on her face, there was a certain sadness reflected in her eyes.

Who’d taken their picture? A man? Gage?

Mallory set the photo down with a grimace. This unhealthy fascination with her sister’s boyfriend had to stop. She needed to focus her attention on filling the cavernous blanks in her memory. On searching for the person whose blood stained her jeans.

Alyssa’s boyfriend was definitely off-limits.

The huge bed was softly inviting, but she refused to simply go to sleep when she had no idea what was going on. Or why she might be sad in contrast to her sister’s happiness.

Her control slipped and suddenly she couldn’t stand wearing the uncomfortable and blood-splattered clothes another minute. She stripped everything off as quickly as humanly possible.

After a good hour in the bathroom, scrubbing her skin until it was almost raw, she felt much better. But finding something appropriate and comfortable to wear wasn’t easy. She rooted through drawers, searching until she found a clean T-shirt that didn’t fit too snuggly and a comfortable pair of yoga pants.

On the opposite side of the bed, a bundle of rose-colored silk on the floor caught her eye. Intrigued, she leaned down and picked up the garment, fingering the fabric thoughtfully. It was a gown, cut daringly low. She had no memory of wearing it, or of leaving it lying crumpled on the floor, as if she’d changed in a hurry. She lifted the dress and glanced around the otherwise neat room. From what she could tell, she wasn’t normally a slob.

Had she worn the gown recently? She spread the rose silk on a nearby chair, wishing the simple item of clothing would spark some sort of memory. If not the gown, something else, then? She opened the closet door and rifled through the hanging garments. Only, nothing looked familiar. Her gaze landed on two boxes sitting on the closet floor.

Wincing against the swelling in her ankle, she kneeled beside the boxes and opened the flap of the top one. She found winter clothing, mainly turtlenecks and cashmere sweaters. She shoved that box aside and grabbed the second. This one held more clothes. Men’s clothes.

The sick feeling in her stomach intensified as she stared at the contents of the box. Had she lived with someone? Been married? She wasn’t wearing a ring. Divorced, then? And if so, from whom? She really should have asked Gage more questions.

Digging beneath the clothes, she found expensive dress shoes and a leather shaving case. Nothing else. Nothing to give a clue as to the identity of the owner.

Dazed, she stumbled to her feet. Limping over to the dresser, she opened every single drawer, relieved to find only female items of clothing. She couldn’t explain why the thought that she may have actually lived with a man so bothersome. Except that it didn’t seem like something she’d agree to do.

In the bottom drawer, beneath more sweaters—really, how many sweaters did one person need?—she found a buttery-soft, brown suede box.

Expecting to find jewelry, she was surprised to discover it empty except for a glossy photo lying inside. Hesitantly, she picked up the picture.

This time, she was dressed in yet another evening gown, this one in brilliant blue. But she wasn’t alone. A man held her possessively in his arms. She swallowed hard, her stomach gurgling with tension as she studied the picture. The guy looked older than her, maybe in his mid- to late thirties, and was dressed in an expensive suit. His handsome face held a note of triumph, but she looked less than thrilled. A faint hint of distaste shadowed her gaze.

Who was he? The owner of the clothing she’d found in the box? Staring at the background behind them, she could see they were standing in some hotel, with linen-covered tables and an orchestra behind them. How many hotels were there in Milwaukee? Or even worse, how many hotels were in the entire United States? No way to know where the photo had been taken.

She put the glossy photo back inside the box, hoping, praying that the men’s clothing belonged to some sort of ex-husband rather than just some guy she’d decided to live with. She didn’t want to believe she was that sort of woman. But the slinky evening gowns and the revealing clothes, not to mention the rose and dagger tattoo she’d discovered just below her collarbone, told a different story.

She closed her eyes on a wave of helplessness.

Please, Lord, help me remember!

Loud pounding on her door startled her. She spun from the dresser, nearly falling on her face when her ankle screamed with pain. Her pulse jumped and, despite the T-shirt and yoga pants, she really wanted a robe or something to cover up with.

Since there didn’t seem to be anything nearby, she yanked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her. Gripping the lower hem of the blanket so she wouldn’t trip, she made her way down the hall toward the front door.

The banging grew insistently louder.

Nervously, she peered through the peephole. Gage’s face, distorted by the glass, had her sighing in relief.

Not the guy in the photo or some other stranger. Gage. Gage had come back. A wave of pleasure swelled in her chest, and she quickly squelched it. What was wrong with her? He didn’t belong to her, he belonged to Alyssa!

“Open up, Mallory,” he called.

Hanging on to the blanket with one hand, she opened the door. “How did you get in? Isn’t there security here?”

“I accidently kept your keys. And that’s not important right now. Finding Alyssa is.” He brushed past her, tossing the keys onto the kitchen counter. With a sigh, she closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” The sheer agony on his face made her feel bad, as if she should be doing something more to help. “I’m afraid my memory hasn’t returned.”

He stared at her as if just noticing her for the first time. “What’s with the blanket?”

She flushed and gripped the edges tighter. “I couldn’t find a robe.”

Gage gave her an odd look but didn’t say anything. “Hurry up and get ready. Because we’re heading out, together, to find Alyssa.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to argue, but in the end, she didn’t really want to stay here alone. Going out somewhere, anywhere, would be better than sitting around waiting for her memory to return. “All right, give me a couple of minutes.”

“A couple of minutes?” The surprise in his tone made her glance back at him over her shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Once again, she tried to find clothing that she wouldn’t be embarrassed to wear in public. In the very back of the closet, she found a pair of slacks that weren’t skintight, and she gratefully pulled them on. She found a long-sleeved, somewhat sheer blouse and pulled that over the plain T-shirt and buttoned it all the way up, not caring about the lack of fashion. Running shoes were harder to find, but she finally found a pair that looked almost brand-new in the back of the closet.

Odd, how there were parts of her that didn’t seem quite right. Did amnesia make a person forget his or her personality? Or maybe a more likely answer was that she put on an act on the outside, hiding her true self within. But why would she put on an act for the public? Because she was afraid? Or because she had something to hide?

Her sister, Alyssa, was the one person who might know for sure. Mallory grimly realized that she needed to find her twin as much as Gage did, maybe more.

Gage seemed a little surprised when she returned to the living room in less than five minutes, but then he gestured to the answering machine in the corner. “You didn’t listen to your messages?”

“No.” She didn’t want to admit the simple task hadn’t occurred to her. “Why?”

He crossed over to press the button on the machine, which was located on the back wall of her kitchen. She followed more slowly, carefully stepping over the sticky orange juice mess she’d left on the floor. She felt foolish having avoided the kitchen after the scene with Gage.

“Mallory? This is Rick Meyer. We won the bid for the Jefferson project. I’d like to get started with some color schemes as soon as possible, so call me.” Gage hit the button to stop the tape.

She stared at him. “Who’s Rick Meyer?” Was it possible he was the older guy in the photo with her?

“Your boss. But I’m looking for a message from Alyssa.” Gage rewound the tape and then replayed all the messages from the beginning.

“Mallory? Call me the second you get this message. It’s urgent that we talk as soon as possible.”

Gage stopped the machine. “That’s her.”

Mallory nodded. Her sister’s voice sounded like an exact replica of her own. “I figured as much. But what does it mean? Why would it be so urgent that we talk?”

“I don’t know.” Gage spun away from the counter, his movements agitated. “Alyssa called me two days ago. She sounded paranoid, saying something about the Jefferson project being dangerous. She wanted me to drop the project and warned me to be careful.”

Mallory suppressed a shiver. There was no denying the tense note of fear in her sister’s tone. The laughing image of Alyssa standing beside her in the photograph mocked her. “What exactly is the Jefferson project?”

Gage dropped into a kitchen chair. “Hugh Jefferson is a wealthy businessman from Chicago. He bought several old warehouse properties along the Milwaukee River and apparently promised to bring in businesses, but then changed his mind and decided to build condos instead. The city government wasn’t pleased and fought him tooth and nail, refusing to change the zoning permits. After a year-long debate, Jefferson finally got his permits and my company was awarded the construction contract. Despite the hassle of getting it approved, the project is nothing more than a real-estate endeavor. I can’t see how there’s anything dangerous about it.”

Mallory frowned and sat at the kitchen table across from Gage. She tried to make sense of the pieces, which frankly was easier than trying to remember. “I don’t understand. What gave Alyssa the impression it might be dangerous?”

Gage scrubbed his hands over his face. “She worked the trauma room the night City Councilman Ray Schaefer was brought in. Apparently he was mugged and stabbed twice in the abdomen. According to Alyssa, before he died he told her a guy hired by Hugh Jefferson stabbed him.”

“He died?” The blood-splattered clothes she’d been wearing flashed in her mind. Logically, she couldn’t imagine she’d been anywhere near the councilman who’d died, but then again, the doctor did say that her amnesia was the result of a traumatic event. Watching a man being stabbed certainly would be traumatic. Had she really been there? Was Schaefer the guy standing with her in the photo? Her nausea deepened.

“Yeah, but according to a statement made by the chief of police, Councilman Schaefer was killed in a simple mugging, and they’d already caught the gang member who’d done the crime. The councilman was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the kid had stabbed him as part of a gang-initiation dare.”

So she hadn’t been there. Her relief was quickly replaced with fear. “But what if the chief of police is wrong?”

Gage’s face reflected his skepticism. “How could he be wrong? They caught the guy—it was all over the news.”

“Yet Alyssa sounded frantic and claimed the project was dangerous.” She tried to curb the rising panic.

“Thinking the worst isn’t going to help.” Gage’s expression was one of sheer determination. “I have to believe Alyssa is all right. And I have to trust that we’re going to find her.”

Arguing wouldn’t help, so she let the matter drop. Think. She needed to think. “Okay, if Alyssa was worried about something shady going on, what would she do?”

“She tried coming to me.” Gage stared down at his hands for a long moment. Self-reproach shimmered from his cinnamon-colored eyes. Sympathy stirred deep in her heart. He really cared about her sister. And the radiant happiness reflected in Alyssa’s eyes on the glossy photo was a strong indication she felt the same way about him.

The two of them deserved to find happiness together. She should be thrilled for them. So why did she feel depressed?

Gage raised anguished eyes to hers. “Since I refused to help, I’m not sure what she’d do. I left a message with a friend of mine who might be able to help find her. I checked her place, but she’s not there. I even stopped at my house, but she wasn’t there, either. All I know for sure is that she called you.”

Mallory nearly apologized, before she caught herself. “Okay, obviously Alyssa’s not here. Who are Alyssa’s closest friends? People from work? Maybe she’s staying with one of them because she was afraid to be alone?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Gage brightened, as if he hadn’t considered that option. “I think Paige Sanders and Emma Banks are her closest friends from work. We can start with them.”

“And what if they’re not home, or don’t want to talk to us?” She watched as Gage swiftly paged through the phone book.

“We’ll find a way to make them talk.” He scowled darkly. “Because I’m not leaving until we have answers.”

* * *

Gage slammed the phone book shut with a sense of frustration. He wasn’t close to Alyssa’s friends, another thing she’d complained about while they were engaged, and he soon realized he didn’t know if either of the women were married, which meant they might not be listed under their own last name in the directory.

Finally he asked Mallory to call Trinity Medical Center, pretending to be Alyssa to request the numbers. He wasn’t surprised when she was readily given the information. Mallory sounded more like Alyssa now that she had amnesia than she did before. He tried to put his finger on the difference. Maybe because the brittle edge had vanished from her tone.

Mallory acted more like Alyssa now, too. Not only was the sharp edge gone, but she didn’t flirt the way she had before she’d hit her head. Even her clothes were more conservative than usual.

Thankfully, after that fiasco in the kitchen, she’d kept her distance from him. Which was a huge relief.

He felt bad for her. Having amnesia couldn’t be easy. His memories of Alyssa were painful, but at least he had them. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if he couldn’t remember Alyssa.

“I have the phone numbers,” Mallory said. He gratefully took the slip of paper and then used directory assistance to get addresses. At least they still had home phone numbers, because cell numbers would have been a dead end. Finally they were ready to leave. Hoping Jonah Stewart, his detective friend, would return his call soon, he waited, rather impatiently, while Mallory grabbed her massive purse and slung it over her shoulder.

She must not have noticed his impatience, because she grinned at him. “Okay. I’m ready, Freddie.”

For a moment he stared at her in shock. I’m ready, Freddie, was a phrase Alyssa had often used, but had he ever heard Mallory say it? He tried to think back but couldn’t honestly remember. She sounded too much like Alyssa, which made it harder to remember that he didn’t like her. Normally Mallory was easy to dismiss. Especially since he’d already fallen for Alyssa.

He jerked the door open, and then paused to glance back at Mallory. Was it possible that Mallory was really more like Alyssa than he’d ever realized? She’d never acted anything like her twin, until now. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Oh, sure, I’m faking amnesia.” She rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Of course I don’t remember. Why would I bother to pretend?” Mallory truly looked perplexed.

To be more like Alyssa. To make me like you. Gage bit back the words before they could slip off his tongue. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

He closed and locked Mallory’s door then headed for the glass elevator. He kept his gaze straight ahead. He wasn’t particularly fond of heights. But he also refused to cave in to his fear. If anyone on a construction site knew he built tall buildings but was afraid of heights, he’d be the topic of endless jokes. Even on-site, he forced himself to manage every phase of a building project, even if that meant going up to the top.

He was glad when they reached the lobby level. Outside the sun was shining and puffy white clouds dotted the sky, the wind off the lake bringing a gust of cool air. A nice day, but he didn’t care. Alyssa was missing and he was stuck with Mallory. He couldn’t relax, not until he knew Alyssa was safe.

He glanced at Mallory, surprised when he saw her blue eyes filled with stark apprehension as she glanced around as if she’d never seen this part of the city before.

He’d wanted Mallory to come with him because he thought Alyssa’s friends would respond better to her twin. He could only assume Alyssa had told her closest friends how they’d broken up. He and Alyssa had known each other for only about three months before getting engaged, and they’d tended to keep to themselves. He had no idea what reason Alyssa had given her friends for breaking off their engagement, but he suspected Alyssa confided that he was the problem.

Mallory stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing another couple to step around her. Lost in thoughts of Alyssa, Gage followed too close and smacked his chin on her head.

“Ow.” She rubbed the top of her head. He hastily backed up, putting at least a foot of space between them. “This is so frustrating. I’m walking along like I should know where we’re going, but I don’t.”

“Over there.” Gage nodded toward his truck, parked a few car lengths down the street. “The blue pickup.”

“What about the rest of them?” She waited for several pedestrians to pass by before gesturing toward the scattered cars parked along the street. “Do you think my car is here somewhere?”

“You drive a three-year-old red Mustang convertible.” He didn’t see the car, and that was strange. Where would Mallory have left it? Near the spot where the ambulance picked her up?

“Maybe someone stole it.” Mallory scowled.

Gage didn’t answer. An old-model beige Cadillac moved slowly down the street. Odd, how it didn’t accelerate. Especially with no stop sign in sight. The clouds shifted from the sun and something glinted brightly from the partially open window of the backseat.

Long and narrow, he belatedly recognized the barrel of a gun.

“Get down!” Gage grabbed Mallory and shoved her down behind the parked cars. He dropped on top of her, protecting her body with his. Within seconds a storm of bullets showered the area around them.

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