TREACHEROUS REUNION

CIA analyst Bethany Bryant has risked her career to prove her former love, soldier Marcus Allen, actually survived a military ambush—and betrayed his country. But when she finally tracks the rugged army ranger to a remote Texas town, Marcus doesn’t remember who he is...or why someone’s trying to kill him. With an assailant determined to silence them both for good, Bethany and Marcus must go on the run in the hope he’ll regain his memories. But will Bethany’s risky gambit to expose the truth clear his name and give them a future...or end their second chance at forever?

“Are those names ringing any bells, Marcus?”

He hated to dash the spark he’d seen in Bethany’s eyes, but he shook his head. “None.”

Bethany pulled out a photo of his squad. “This was taken two days before the ambush.” She sat beside Marcus, pointing out the surviving rangers. She rattled off their names, but all he heard was the beating of his heart as the sweet scent of her hair wafted into his nostrils. Nothing about the ambush or his teammates seemed familiar...but she did.

Bethany glanced up at him and her eyes widened, probably at the spark of attraction Marcus was sure was blanketing his face. The familiar wide blue eyes and graceful curve of her face called to him. He reached out and stroked her jaw, moving downward to her lips. She didn’t pull away, at least not at first. Her head bobbed backward and her breathing heightened. He wanted to kiss her, just as he had a hundred times before in his dreams. It was her he’d been remembering. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

VIRGINIA VAUGHAN is a born-and-raised Mississippi girl. She is blessed to come from a large Southern family, and her fondest memories include listening to stories recounted around the dinner table. She was a lover of books from a young age, devouring tales of romance, danger and love. She soon started writing them herself. You can connect with Virginia through her website, virginiavaughanonline.com, or through the publisher.

Mission: Memory Recall

Virginia Vaughan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;)

—Hebrews 10:23

To Beverly, who left this world before finding out how the story ended.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

One

CIA Analyst Bethany Bryant’s heart raced as she parked her rented SUV in a parking space in front of Milo’s Diner in Little Falls, Texas. Taking out her gun, she checked it then slid it back into the holster beneath her jacket. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but she was ready in case she did. Her pulse was pounding with both excitement and angst.

She stared through the front windows of the diner and braced herself. For two years she’d been stalking a shadow across several countries and most recently to this sleepy little town. Social Security files showed employment activity at this diner on a false identity she’d been tracking as recently as two months ago. Now she was here and this place might finally hold the answers she’d been seeking for so long.

Bethany closed her eyes. She couldn’t handle any more disappointments, any more false hopes. Taking a deep breath, she stared ahead and couldn’t help wondering if her friend Dillon was right. He would tell her to face the facts—Marcus Allen was dead and she was chasing a figment of her imagination.

But it could be him.

Her heart kicked up a notch. She was also anxious about what would happen once she stepped inside the diner. How would she handle it if it was really him? She hoped she could keep her calm and professionalism, but a part of her was afraid she might cry like a little girl if she saw the face of the man who had haunted her dreams for so long. Drawing another deep, bracing breath, she got out of the vehicle, smoothed her long, dark ponytailed hair and her clothes then headed inside. She paused at the door and squared her shoulders before stepping through.

Milo’s was an old-fashioned diner with stools at the counter and booths lining the walls. There was even an opening where one could see into the kitchen. The aroma of bacon and breakfast goods greeted her along with the familiar clanking of dishes and the chatter of conversation by the customers of the nearly full eatery. Bethany found an empty booth with a clear view of the kitchen and strained her head to try to see inside. She saw people, bodies, but no faces.

A pretty middle-aged woman with an apron and notebook approached her table and wiped it down. “Welcome to Milo’s, hon. What can I getcha?”

“Just coffee, please,” she stated, scanning the area behind the counter for a familiar face.

“We have a great breakfast special. Steak and eggs for only $5.99. Sure you’re not hungry?”

“No, thank you. Just the coffee.”

Laughter caught her attention and she gazed past the waitress and through the window into the kitchen. She knew that deep baritone voice. She’d heard it before, reveled in it. Her breath caught and a moment later her world shattered when she spotted the familiar strong jaw, green eyes and wide, bright smile through the opening.

Tears threatened her. He was alive. It was true. It was really true. Marcus Allen was alive. Then, as suddenly as that emotion had hit her, it morphed into anger. Marcus Allen was alive and working as a fry cook in a diner in Texas.

“Are you okay, honey?” the waitress asked. “You look kinda pale. Can I get you some water?”

“No, I’m fine. I was just caught off guard by the laughter. It sounded like someone I used to know.”

The waitress turned and glanced into the kitchen. “You know Marcus?”

Ah, that was the real question, wasn’t it? “I used to know him a long time ago.”

The woman whose name badge read Marie turned and hollered toward the kitchen. “Marcus! This girl claims she knows you. Get out here and say hello.”

Bethany’s heart jerked as the man peered through the open window then waved. She pressed her arm against the gun under the jacket as she debated her own reaction. Her first instinct was to run to him, pull him into her arms and praise God for his safe return. She checked that. After all, she hardly recognized the man approaching her table.

Dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and cowboy boots, he wore a long apron over his clothes and tossed a dish towel over his shoulder as he approached her. His eyes narrowed as he neared and he cocked his head as if trying to place her. Bethany felt herself go on alert. It was him! It was Marcus Allen walking and talking and cooking fried food.

She sucked in a breath and tried to get hold of her tangled emotions. If Marcus was alive, that meant...that meant he’d lied to the entire world. And now he was walking toward her as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He acted as if he didn’t even know her and that made her mad all over again. She gritted her teeth, fury rushing through her. How could he not remember her? And if she shot him, could she really be charged with a crime?

After all, to the rest of the world, Marcus Allen had died two years ago in Afghanistan.

* * *

Excitement burst through Marcus as he approached the table where his boss and Milo’s co-owner, Marie, stood with a pretty brunette. His adrenaline had started pumping the moment she’d called out to say someone knew him. He’d hoped to recognize the woman, but he didn’t. Nothing registered.

He pushed back the disappointment. It didn’t mean anything. He didn’t even know himself these days, much less the beautiful woman with the long, dark hair and riveting blue eyes. He only knew his name was Marcus because the Afghani villagers who rescued him had called him that. He didn’t even know for certain it was his name, but this woman knew. This woman knew him.

He sucked in a breath. Her gaze was hard as he approached, but he didn’t stop. If she really knew who he was and this wasn’t just a case of mistaken identity, then she had answers...answers he’d spent the past two years seeking.

The lovely stranger didn’t flinch as he slid across from her in the booth and removed the wet towel from his shoulder. He eyed her, bracing himself for the unescapable moment when she would declare, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Hi,” he said, his voice shaky with excitement. “Marie said you recognized me? I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”

Her eyes blazed at his words and he could see it made her mad that he didn’t remember. What were the chances that he finally had contact with someone who could give him answers and she turned out to be an angry ex-girlfriend? Was he that kind of guy? The love-’em-and-leave-’em type? He. Just. Didn’t. Know.

“Bethany,” she stated through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry I can’t place you, Bethany. Something happened to me and I’ve been having a difficult time remembering things. Can I ask how you know me?”

She leaned forward and stared into his eyes, her gaze probing. He let her and didn’t look away. It had to be weird having someone you knew not recognize you.

“Really, Marcus? You’re really going to pretend to have amnesia?”

“I’m not pretending. Why would I make up something like that?”

“Because you’re in a heap of trouble, that’s why.” She pulled out her wallet and opened it, revealing a federal identification badge.

“What does the CIA want with me?” he asked, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. This was what he’d been most afraid of, that if and when he finally discovered the truth about himself, he wouldn’t like it very much. The villagers who’d cared for his wounds in Afghanistan had told him the CIA was hunting him. Her presence cemented that fear.

Just then his ears grabbed onto a familiar sound. He recognized the high-pitched whistling immediately and reacted. “Get down!” he hollered as something exploded through the window above their heads and the air filled with glass and a rush of stifling heat. Marcus hit the floor as bullets whizzed past him and slammed into the metal doors that led into the kitchen. Someone screamed and the panic-stricken patrons started running for the door. Marcus glanced at Bethany. She was crouched beside the table, her gun drawn and ready to return fire.

“Get down! Stay away from the windows!” Bethany screamed at the crowd as the bullets continued flying. She appeared ready to fight back, but it seemed awfully convenient that on the day she’d found him, someone was firing into the crowded diner.

The front doors were shoved open and several people spilled out onto the sidewalk. The shooter didn’t target them as they fled, but who was to say he wouldn’t start? Marcus thought the guy’s intent was probably to create pandemonium and, if it was, he’d been successful.

Moving to the metal doors already riddled with bullet holes, Marcus motioned for the rest of the crowd to rush toward the back. He noticed fear on their faces, yet he remained oddly calm under fire. How had he known that that sound had meant a bullet was headed their way? And why did this all seem second nature to him?

“Stay low and you’ll be safe,” he assured everyone as they began to filter back. Marcus spotted Milo huddled under the counter with Marie. He nodded at them. “Get those people into the freezer.” The large walk-in was solidly built and would withstand the gunfire. He glanced back at the holes in the door and knew instinctively that this wasn’t a random shooting. He was the target.

Milo kept a rifle under the counter in case of trouble. Marcus tore off his apron, crawled across the floor and reached to the back, his hand grabbing metal. He checked the weapon, glad to see it was loaded. Thank you, Milo.

He looked at Bethany. She wasn’t backing down, either. In fact, she was crouched on a leather booth seat, gun by her hand and using a mirrored compact to try to get a better look at the shooter.

Marcus joined her at the booth. “See anything?”

“Only one shooter. Looks like he’s perched on the top of the bank building across the street.”

“That’s a perfect vantage point for a sniper. He fired a lot of shots but didn’t hit anyone in the crowd. He must have been trying to create panic. Any chance he’s one of yours?”

“You mean CIA? No. No one from the Agency knew I was coming. I’ve been tracking you off the books.” She pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Someone is shooting into Milo’s Diner on Main Street. We need police and ambulance response pronto.”

He jumped up, pushed the shotgun through the window and fired. Bethany fired, too, and the sniper stopped shooting for only a moment before Marcus spotted the red laser that indicated the assailant had turned on his targeting gear. It swept the area, trying to find its mark as Marcus and Bethany crept out of its range.

“We’re not going to stop him from here,” he stated. This all felt so natural and, once again, that struck him as odd. He’d done this sort of thing before. He was certain of it. He grimaced. If this sniper hadn’t showed up, he would already have the answers he needed from the pretty brunette. He clutched his gun. She knew him. She knew him. The idea both baffled and amazed him.

“We’ve got to go out there and stop him. We can go out the back then circle around the hardware store and climb up the back of the building.”

She nodded, agreeing, and he was glad because he was going to make sure they didn’t get separated. This Fed had the answers to the questions he’d been seeking. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Bethany followed him into the kitchen. The freezer door opened and Milo peeked out.

“Is it safe?” he asked. “It’s cold in here.”

Marcus waved him away. “Get back inside. Better to be cold than dead. The police are on the way.”

“And what are you two doing?”

“We’re going after the sniper. Keep everyone inside until they arrive.”

While some people had gotten away and he’d noticed the shooter hadn’t targeted them, it was too dangerous to allow anyone else out. They were better off staying in the freezer for now until the police arrived.

Marcus went out the back door and, crouching against the wall, followed the building to the front. He was hyperaware that Bethany was right behind him.

He cautiously glanced out and the sniper fired. He jumped back. “He’s got us pinned down. How many bullets do you have left in that gun?”

She pulled it to her in a protective manner. “Enough. Why?”

“You draw his fire. I’ll circle around the back of the hardware store and confront him.”

She frowned and he could see she didn’t like the thought of letting him out of her sight, but what choice did she really have?

Finally, after several long moments, she reluctantly nodded, but then obviously felt the need to clarify something. “You’d better not disappear again, Marcus. I found you once. I’ll find you again.”

He was certain she could but her worry was in vain. “I’m not going anywhere.” He’d come here to find answers and she was the first clue to his identity. He wasn’t going to run from her now.

She braced herself then started firing at the building. Marcus took off running, crossing the street then ducking into the hardware store. Mr. Bennett, the store’s owner, was hunkered down behind the counter.

Shouldering his rifle, Marcus told him to stay low as he hurried to the back, swooping up a rope from a shelf before exiting through the door. He quickly knotted the rope and then tossed it up the side of the building until it caught. He scaled the side of the building, all the while conscious of Bethany’s firing to keep the sniper engaged.

Good girl. Keep him occupied.

The rope burned into his hands but he didn’t stop. Hefting himself over the top of the roof, once again he was acutely aware of the fact that he’d done this before.

The scream of sirens wailed in the distance and Marcus knew the police would arrive soon enough, more likely new targets of the sniper’s aim. He needed to get over there and find out just who was shooting at them before further chaos erupted.

But he also needed to get back to the woman who held the answers to all his questions. You’ve brought me this far, Lord. You sent this Federal Agent with knowledge of my past to find me. Please don’t let anything happen before I can hear what she has to say.

He drew his gun and moved across the rooftop, every muscle on alert as he ran to the edge.

He scanned the rooftop quickly, spotting a rifle leaning against the wall, but the shooter was gone.

Suddenly someone grabbed him from behind, pulling something hard and tight against him. Marcus caught it with his hand, knowing that if the attacker managed to get this around his neck, he was done for. And everyone else down there would have to deal with this guy alone. He couldn’t allow that.

Marcus summoned more strength than he knew he had, reached back to grab the guy and then slung him across his shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud and a groan while Marcus scrambled to stay on his feet at the near loss of air supply.

Air Supply. He loved the band Air Supply.

He shook his head. Stop it and focus. Fight now. Answers later.

His attacker was dressed all in black, his face hidden by goggles and a sand scarf. It was a look familiar to Marcus; the guy resembled a bandit from the Old West. Marcus himself had dressed like that before for undercover work.

Unfortunately, his attacker didn’t stay down. He leaped to his feet, ready to attack again.

Marcus faced him, unable to shake the familiar look of him. He couldn’t see his face because of the sand scarf and goggles, but he knew the look, the stance, even the weapon of choice—a .300 Win Mag sniper rifle. Powerful and precise enough to shoot across a long distance. In other words, the perfect sniper’s rifle.

The masked figure lunged and Marcus engaged him, surprised to find he matched him move for move. He acted on instinct, the efforts coming naturally to him. He didn’t even have to think which move to make because his muscles seemed to know before his mind did. Finally, the assailant drop-kicked him and Marcus hit the ground and rolled. When he turned over to get to his feet, his attacker lowered his gun and held it to his head.

“You should have stayed dead, Marcus,” the clad figure stated.

But before he could shoot, another gun fired, this time from behind him. The bullet didn’t hit him but he jerked and spun around to face the new shooter from his spot on the ground.

Marcus spotted striking blue eyes belonging to none other than Bethany, the CIA agent, her weapon raised and firing. Man, she was gorgeous. The attacker hopped over the side of the building and vanished. She raced to the edge and looked over as Marcus crawled to his feet.

She turned back to him, irritation glowering on her face. “He’s gone.”

“Apparently so.” Marcus walked to the perch where the sniper had left his weapon and gear. He glanced through the scope. The diner had indeed been the target. But why and who had targeted them?

He heard the click of a gun safety releasing behind him. “Get away from that.”

He glanced back and saw Bethany with her gun now aimed at him.

“I’m just checking it out.”

“I said move away from it,” she insisted, so he did. If she wanted to play things her way then he would let her for now.

Lowering her weapon, she picked up the sniper rifle and glanced through the scope.

“The diner was the target. Or rather, someone inside the diner.” She picked up the gear bag and dug through it. “There’s no identification.”

“He wouldn’t have any,” Marcus offered and she glanced up at him with those probing eyes. “Despite what people commonly believe, snipers don’t work alone. They need someone to watch the wind and environment as well as, in this case, people coming to intercept them. In this case, if he hadn’t been working alone, he never would have left his stuff behind. We’re looking for a single sniper.”

“I’m familiar with sniper protocols,” she snapped, a comment that made him wonder why he was familiar with them. Had he been a sniper?

The person to ask was standing in front of him and there was no time like the present. After all, he’d made this journey to find answers.

“Back at the diner, you told Marie you knew me. Was that true? Do you know who I am?”

She looked up at him, surprise shining in her eyes. He held his breath. This was the moment he’d waited for, prayed for, even trekked across the Middle East for.

She straightened and raised her gun at him again, this time startling him enough to cause him to take several steps back.

“I do know you. You’re Marcus Allen. And you’re under arrest for treason and desertion.”

* * *

Bethany saw surprise color his face and felt more vindicated than she had since she’d first realized he hadn’t died that night in Afghanistan.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” he stated. “You’re seriously arresting me?”

Technically, she didn’t have the authority to arrest him, but she could and would detain him until he could be placed in custody. And, officially, she knew there were no active arrest warrants for Marcus Allen because as far as the US government was concerned, he’d died in Afghanistan two years ago.

“I know exactly who you are. I’ve been tracking you for the past two years.” She took out her CIA credentials and flashed them once again. “You’re on the government’s radar.” Maybe she was overstepping her bounds here. Technically, he was only on her radar, but he didn’t need to know that.

He looked downtrodden. “I’m a criminal? I thought when you told Marie you knew me, that you actually knew me.” He glanced at her derisively. “You’re nothing but an agent looking for her next prey.”

She sighed and lowered the gun. “You’re being a little melodramatic, aren’t you, Marcus? Of course I know you.” He’d made certain he’d be remembered when he’d made her fall in love with him then run out on her and everyone else.

The bitterness of realizing she’d been duped still stung Bethany because she had fallen for Marcus. She’d fallen hard for the handsome soldier with the broad smile and easygoing manner. The few weeks they’d spent together before the ambush had been the best of her life and she’d been just as devastated when she’d thought he’d died only to discover she’d been used as a means to an end.

Her face radiated heat at the reminder of the fool she’d been for him. She’d cried for this man when she’d thought he died! Then to discover he’d not only survived but had had a hand in the ambush had nearly done her in. Only her anger and quest for revenge had kept her going. Now he was standing in front of her and, more than wanting to know why he’d betrayed his country, she wanted to demand to know why he’d betrayed her. But she couldn’t focus on that now. That wasn’t the important part of why she’d tracked him down. Betraying his country was by far the more critical issue.

“What have I done that the CIA is hunting me?”

“You’re a US soldier who went missing and was presumed killed in action. I have a duty to bring you in through the proper channels. Everyone is going to want to talk to you, to hear your story.”

“But I don’t know my story.” He grunted and spun away from her, his shoulders tense. “How can I tell anyone what happened when I don’t know myself what went down?” He turned back, looked at her and shook his head. “But you don’t believe me, do you?”

“That you have amnesia?” she scoffed. “Come on, Marcus, drop the act. We both know you’ve been in hiding for nearly two years.”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“Whatever it was, I’m taking you in. The only question is how we’re going to do this.”

He saw her clutch the gun then hung his head and sighed. “You won’t need that.” He held out the rifle in his hand to her, butt first. “I’m not a fugitive and I’m certainly not dangerous.”

“But you are under arrest. Let’s go. You’ll pay for the crimes you’ve committed against your country.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I—I don’t even know—”

His lack of recognition hurt more than she cared to admit, but she didn’t let it show. “What? You don’t recognize me? That’s fine, Marcus, but I certainly remember you.”

“All I know is I woke up injured, with no memory of how it happened or who I was. The only reason I know my name is because the people who cared for me told me they overheard others calling me Marcus.” Exhaling roughly, he rubbed a hand across his face. “They told me the CIA was after me, so I went into hiding, but I couldn’t stand the hiding anymore. I came here trying to find answers to who I am and what happened to me. Then you showed up and the shooting started.”

Bethany was about to call him out on his fanciful tale, but the sincerity in his face stopped her again. Before she had a moment to steel herself from his eyes, the rooftop door burst open and six men dressed in local police attire, with weapons raised, stormed onto the roof.

“Stop right there,” one of them called. “Drop your weapon and step away from it.”

She did as the officer commanded and sank to the ground, carefully placing her gun on the rooftop. It was better to cooperate with the authorities because she knew they would eventually get everything sorted out. Marcus, too, raised his hands over his head and followed the officer’s instructions.

“My name is Bethany Bryant,” she called out. “I’m an agent with the CIA. If you’ll look in my jacket pocket, you’ll find my credentials and identification.” She’d given up field work for a desk job after the ambush in which she’d thought Marcus had died, but still maintained her field agent status.

The officer who searched her glanced at her CIA credentials then passed them along to his boss, who nodded and ordered her released. “We were responding to shots fired into the diner. Can you tell us what happened here?”

“I’ve been tracking this man on charges of treason and terrorist activities. I’d just made contact when the shooting started. It looks like someone was trying to take him out before he could talk to me. I’d like to have him placed in a jail cell and under close guard to await the arrival of Federal Marshals to transport him to Langley to stand trial. And, be careful, he’s highly trained and skilled in matters of combat.”

Bethany watched his face as the officers led him away. He looked resigned to being arrested. He didn’t struggle when they cuffed him or moved him along.

She was right beside him when the local police walked him through town and the man and woman from the diner approached, expressions of worry lining their faces. “Marcus? What’s going on? What’s happening? Why are they arresting you?”

“It’s okay, Milo. It’s all a big mistake.”

Marie approached Bethany and grabbed her arm. “Why are you arresting Marcus? You saw, he was the one who was helping get people to safety when the shots started. He’s a good guy.”

Bethany pulled her arm away. “I’m sorry, but you have no idea what kind of man Marcus Allen really is.”

She saw the looks of doubt on their faces. They didn’t believe her, but she didn’t hold it against them. She knew personally how easy it was to be fooled into thinking Marcus Allen was one of the good guys.

Two

Sheriff Ken Mills was a burly man who epitomized the stereotypical small-town Texas sheriff. But he sat and listened—staring at Bethany’s credentials instead of looking directly at her—while she explained the situation and asked for his help. Technically, he didn’t have to offer any assistance to her since the CIA wasn’t supposed to be operating on US soil, but most law-enforcement agencies shared so many common experiences that camaraderie was generally expected and usually given.

When she was finished, Mills leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. “I’ll agree to this on several conditions, Agent Bryant. One, you don’t interfere with our investigation into the shooting and, two, you offer up any and all information you know about it.”

She nodded. “Of course. I will.” That was a given.

“How long do you think you’ll need to house this prisoner of yours in our facility?”

“Not long at all. One night. Maybe two at the most.”

“Fine. My last condition is that my detectives want to question him about what he knows about the shooting without interference from you or the Agency. I don’t want to hear that we can’t solve a shooting in our own community because the CIA deems it sensitive information.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Sheriff. In fact, I would love to be kept informed about any information your detectives garner from Marcus.”

“I’ll let them know.” He stood and shook her hand. “It’s hard to believe that we had a fugitive from the CIA living right here in our community and no one knew it. Keep us updated and we’ll do the same.”

She left his office and was met by Detective Mercer, who told her they were still going through evidence and wouldn’t be talking with Marcus for several more hours.

Bethany took the opportunity to dial the number for Rick Eaves, her CIA department supervisor, to update him. When he answered, she spilled the news about finding Marcus.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Marcus Allen? You really found him?”

“I did. He’s alive. He was working as a fry cook in a town called Little Falls, Texas.”

“I’m in shock, Bethany. I confess I thought you were just chasing shadows. Are you certain it’s him? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him.”

She remembered staring up into Marcus’s achingly familiar green eyes and mentally shook her head. She would never forget his face. “It’s him. I’m certain of it.”

“Okay, then we need to plan our next move. Do you want me to call in a team to bring him in?”

She’d gone against Agency protocols by not calling in a fugitive recovery team. But then, she hadn’t been acting in an official capacity, either. “That’s not necessary.”

“This is a dangerous man, Bethany. He’s been on the run for years. There’s no telling what he might do if you confront him.”

She grimaced, bracing for his reaction. “I already have.”

“You did what? Are you insane? You know our standard operating procedures for capturing fugitives.”

She couldn’t help the indignation that arose inside her. No one had believed her and now she was catching flack for being right. “I wasn’t operating under an official capacity, remember? I didn’t think I had the resources of the Agency to help with this.”

Rick took a deep breath as if realizing she was right and then continued in a calmer tone. “What happened?”

“Nothing. He claims to have amnesia. He says he doesn’t even know me.”

“Amnesia? Are you seriously buying that?”

She wanted to assure her supervisor she didn’t, but the image of Marcus’s green eyes looking at her so earnestly for answers as he’d sat across from her flashed through her mind and she couldn’t form the words. So instead of responding to his question, she moved on to the next issue. “We have another pressing problem. A sniper fired into the diner just after I approached him.”

“They’re trying to kill him before he can talk to us.”

Her mind spun at that notion. “Who is trying to kill him?”

“Bethany, you don’t think he’s been on his own all this time, do you? He must have been working with someone to stay under the radar.”

She didn’t bother reminding him that Marcus hadn’t managed to stay under her radar. “I haven’t gotten to officially interrogate him yet, but I will soon.”

“You do that. I’m going to start making preparations to get you both back here as soon as possible. I’ll call the Marshals’ office. I assume the locals will hold him until they arrive?”

“Yes, I’ve already spoken to the sheriff. He wants answers about this shooting just as much as we do.”

“Don’t let them take over. He’s our prisoner, not theirs. Make sure they know that. Do you want me to call the sheriff?”

“That’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

“Okay. I’ll be in touch once the arrangements for the Marshals are under way.”

She hung up but instead of feeling proud of herself for finally capturing Marcus after all these years, she felt as if she’d just been scolded by her supervisor. And it rankled because she’d accomplished something no one else at the Agency had been able to do.

Rick Eaves and the rest of the CIA had underestimated her and now she’d proved them all wrong.

She should have felt vindicated. So why then did it feel like her heart was breaking?

* * *

The local cops paraded him inside like a common criminal. He didn’t like it, but he allowed it because Bethany was right about people wanting to question him. And maybe they could help him recover some of his memories.

Their sheriff offered his help and had a deputy escort Marcus to a jail cell. He sat on the cold, hard seat and waited. None of this had gone as he’d anticipated. He’d certainly not expected to be sitting in a county jail awaiting transport to CIA headquarters.

He closed his eyes and lifted a prayer to God. Surely, He hadn’t brought him all this way to make him a prisoner. Bethany had called him a traitor to his country. He didn’t feel like one, but how could he really know for sure?

Flashes of the past hit him. Gunfire and running. Pain bursting through him. A woman staring up at him, awaiting a kiss—He jolted awake at that last image, realizing he’d dozed off. The woman reminded him of Bethany, like it could have been her sister, but her eyes had been different, a deep brown color instead of the vivid blue, and her face and hair had been hidden under a tunic. But the resemblance was uncanny. He wiped his face, trying to rub away some of the fogginess that clouded his memories.

“What are you thinking about so intently, Marcus?” Her voice came this time not from his memory but from behind the wall of bars separating them. Her eyes were once again their bright glory blue.

“You, actually.” He stood and approached her. She held the answers to all his questions. “How do we know each other? I mean, I know you’re a CIA agent hunting me, but are we more than that?”

She chewed on her bottom lip in a telling fashion. “Why would you ask me that question?”

“I keep seeing this woman flashing before my eyes.”

“So you admit you remember me?”

“I guess I do. It’s just a glimmer, but I remember seeing you.” And kissing you. What was that about? “But the woman looked different...the eyes?”

Bethany gave a weary sigh. “They’re called contact lenses, Marcus. You know very well that I wear them when I’m on assignment.”

Her words flowed back to him, words she’d spoken years and several thousand miles ago. “Because who would believe an Afghani woman with blue eyes?”

She stared up at him, those same eyes flashing with anger. “So you do remember?”

He rubbed his eyes, pain shooting through his head as he tried to concentrate. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He saw the doubt on her face. “I’m not lying to you, Bethany. My past is a blank slate. You have no idea how frustrating that is. I remember how to walk, talk, drive a car, shoot a gun, but when I try to recall who I am or where I come from or what I’ve done, there’s nothing.”

“We’ll see. The CIA has methods to obtain information.”

“I’m sure they do.”

She waved her hand at the camera and the electronic lock released. “I have a few of my own methods right now. Will you follow me to the interview room?”

He allowed her to cuff him and lead him down the long hallway then turn right into an interrogation room. When they entered, Marcus saw what looked to be the content from the shooter’s nest.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

She motioned toward the weapon. “You tell me. Everything has been unloaded, of course.”

“Of course.” He picked up the rifle and checked the mag. “This is a .300 Win Mag sniper rifle with long-range scope. The most accurate sniper’s rifle on the market.” He glanced at the other equipment on the table. It was all top-quality gear. “Aside from the working on his own part, I’d say our sniper is a professional assassin.”

She nodded. “I agree. And you let him get away. Who’s after you, Marcus?”

He sighed, already weary of her not believing him, and sank into a chair. “Why do you think he was after me? You were in that diner, too, as were a handful of patrons. Any one of them could have been the target.”

“That’s highly unlikely. You’re a fugitive on the run. I feel certain you were the mark. Besides, he didn’t target anyone else as they were fleeing the building, only you.”

“Well, I haven’t been targeted until today. Believe me, nothing like this has happened to me before you arrived in town. I was hoping you could provide me answers, but it seems you provided a lot more than that.”

Anger flashed on her face. “Are you implying that I led someone to you who wanted you dead?”

She stood and walked to him, opening a folder. “Are you aware that all but six of your army ranger team died in an ambush in Afghanistan two years ago? All including you...or so everyone believed.” She leaned over him, speaking directly into his ear. “You had us all fooled, Marcus. They all thought you’d died that night on that mountain. These men were your teammates, your friends.”

He glanced at the file. “I didn’t lie to anyone,” he insisted.

“Then tell me what happened over there.”

He dug through his memory, but only flashes came. Firefights. Cries of pain. And the soft skin of lips caressing his. She was all jumbled up in there, but even those fragments didn’t provide the answers he needed. “I—I don’t know. All I know is I was injured. The first thing I remember clearly was waking up in a hut. The villagers took care of me and treated my wounds. They sheltered me. But they kept saying I was in danger, that someone was hunting me, that someone in the CIA was after me.”

“Why weren’t they afraid of you? The CIA was the good guy.”

“They didn’t think so. They seemed frightened, so I was frightened, as well. I figured they were the ones who knew the good guys from the bad guys.”

“Why didn’t you report to a US military base? You would have been safe there.”

“I had no idea who I was. For all I knew, I was on the run from the US government. I thought I would be arrested, or worse, killed.”

She gave him a disgusted look and shook her head. “You have a US army ranger’s tattoo on your left shoulder. No one could mistake that. You had a duty to return to the base when you were able and let someone know you were alive.”

He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his shoulder. There was no army ranger tattoo, but the scarred flesh suggested that something had once been there. He’d never thought about it being a tattoo of any kind. Had just chalked the scarred flesh up to his injuries. Had someone burned off his tattoo to keep him safe? “I depended on those people to keep me alive. I did as I was told. Besides, they were right. The CIA was after me.”

She stood and gathered the items, placing them back into an evidence container. “Tomorrow, the US Marshals will arrive to transport you back to CIA headquarters, where you’ll be fully briefed about what happened the night of the ambush. There will be a lot of questions about how you survived and why you haven’t come forward. I suggest you come up with a better story than this amnesia one.”

“I can’t tell you anything that isn’t the truth, Beth.”

She stopped, turned and glared at him. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Her words held a bite that chilled him. He’d hurt her. Badly. In his heart, he knew it hadn’t been on purpose, but how could he prove it? How could he exonerate himself from a jail cell?

“I’m sorry.” He spoke softly. “I don’t mean to cause you more pain. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m not lying, but I promise you I’m not.”

She folded her arms and gave him a stern look. “You may have made a fool of me, but don’t worry, Marcus, you never hurt me.”

She opened the door and called to a guard who grabbed him by the arm. He couldn’t miss the pain simmering behind her eyes as he was led out of the room and back to lockup.

* * *

She was in her hotel room when her phone rang and she looked at the screen. It was Dillon Montgomery, her former partner in the CIA. They’d worked many operations together, including the one they’d been on when the ambush occurred. Dillon was one of the few agents in her division who hadn’t forgotten about her when she’d accepted a desk job and he was the only one who still called her regularly and tried to encourage her back to field work.

She noticed she’d had several missed calls from him. She pressed the on button. “Dillon, hi.”

“Where are you? I’ve been phoning you all day. I was starting to get worried.”

These days, it was nothing for her to wake up to a text or email from Dillon that he was going on assignment. He could be called to a mission at a moment’s notice and be gone for days or weeks. Bethany knew the routine well—she used to live it. But since she’d stopped doing field work, her job kept her closer to home, so her disappearing without a word was considered unusual by Dillon.

“I’m in Texas,” she told him. “I decided to take a few days off.”

The hesitation before he responded meant he knew why. Her obsession with finding Marcus was a constant source of tension between the two of them. Dillon had been the only one in the department to encourage her to follow her gut when it came to her investigation into Marcus. Everyone else had considered her obsession with finding him nothing more than a hopeless pursuit. But even Dillon’s encouragement had waned recently.

“When are you going to give this up, Bethany?”

“I’m not giving up, Dillon. In fact, I found who I came looking for.”

“What do you mean you found him?” His voice perked up. “Are you serious? Marcus Allen? You found him? Are you sure?”

“I am. It’s definitely him.”

He gave a low whistle. “Unbelievable. You always believed it, Bethany, even when the rest of us tried to dissuade you. Impressive. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Dillon. I still can’t believe I found him after all this time.”

“A soldier presumed killed in action discovered alive? I, for one, can’t wait to hear his story.”

“Well, there won’t be much of a story. He has amnesia.”

Dillon snickered. “Amnesia? Really?”

“That’s what he’s claiming. Right after I confronted him, someone started shooting at us. He insists he has no idea why someone would try to kill him and no knowledge of who the sniper is.”

“Of course he would say that,” Dillon stated. “He’s wanted by more than the CIA.”

She frowned. Rick had alluded to something like that, too. “What do you mean?”

He laughed. “Come on, Bethany. What do you think he’s been doing all this time? He must have been working for someone. Probably weapons traders, if I had my guess. If he’s back in the States and someone is trying to kill him, he probably betrayed them, too.”

“But why did they wait until I arrived to take those shots?” she asked. “Were they following me? Did I lead the shooter to him?”

Dillon gave a disgruntled sigh. “I doubt anyone in the CIA was following you around on the off chance you found a presumed-dead army ranger.”

When he said it, it sounded so implausible that she blushed even thinking it.

“And who else would know about your investigation? I don’t mean to put you down, Bethany, because you did it, you found Marcus Allen. But your investigation into this matter has been like a wild-goose chase. No one in the Agency or any other government agency gave your conclusions any merit. Certainly there was no one here waiting around to see if you found him.”

He was only stating what she already knew to be true. It was silly to even think differently. Marcus was a target and had been for a while. He’d probably gone into hiding to begin with because someone was after him and thus had been dodging bullets for years. That certainly made more sense than that she’d led someone to him. She grimaced to think she’d let him plant doubt in her mind.

“Of course. You’re right.”

“Tell me where you are,” Dillon said. “I’ll hop a flight and be there in a few hours to help you bring him in.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve already made arrangements. He’s being held in the local jail and Rick has arranged for the US Marshals to escort us back to Langley tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind making the trip.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you when I return.”

“Okay...have a safe trip,” he said. “I’ll see you when you get back. We’ll celebrate this victory. Steaks on the grill at my place. Sound good?”

“That sounds nice.”

“Seriously, Bethany. Good job.”

She felt her face redden. She and Dillon had become very close over the past year. He’d indicated he wanted more than to be just friends but she’d put him off several times. She just didn’t believe she was ready for that even though deep down she knew he was a great guy.

He was handsome and charming and one of the more successful agents in the terrorism division. They were well matched and she knew the job often caused trouble in marriages, but marrying a fellow agent meant being with someone who understood the job. And he was the one who continually encouraged Bethany to return to the field.

She hung up with Dillon, still pondering the state of their relationship. She’d spent months putting him off because of her obsession with finding Marcus. Now that’s she’d done it, was it time to give Dillon the attention he deserved?

She sighed.

The truth was that she’d never felt the spark with Dillon that she’d felt with Marcus. She knew it was silly to feel this way. Dillon was perfect for her.

She reddened again, remembering that what she’d felt for Marcus had been fabricated. It hadn’t been real, only a con she’d fallen for.

That was enough. It was time to stop focusing on Marcus. She took some satisfaction in knowing she’d been right...that she’d been vindicated. Now her life of living in limbo was over. Though, what did that mean exactly? She’d spent so much time and energy hunting for Marcus that it had consumed her life for the past two years. It would take a while to adjust to her new normal.

Blowing out a breath, she grabbed her keys and headed out to her SUV. She wasn’t going to sleep tonight because she was too keyed up. She might as well go over the evidence obtained from the rooftop. Because if someone else was after Marcus, as she suspected, they would have a fight on their hands to keep him out of harm’s way.

* * *

When Bethany parked her SUV in the parking lot of the police station and got out, she was immediately approached by Marie and Milo.

“Why did you have Marcus arrested?” Marie demanded. “He wasn’t the one shooting. He was helping people get to safety.”

Bethany could see their deep concern for their employee. He’d obviously made an impression on them, but then, he was good at getting people to trust him then running out on them. She decided they needed to know who it was they were putting such faith in.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he’s not the man you think he is.”

“He told us all about his past...or rather that he didn’t know his past.”

Bethany narrowed her eyes at them. “He told you he didn’t know who he was yet you hired him, anyway?”

Milo nodded. “He needed help. That was obvious. We met him when he first arrived in town. He attended a service at our church. He seemed lost and alone, but a decent fellow. At first we gave him small jobs around the diner but he kept going above and beyond what was asked of him. We soon realized he was a decent, hard worker, and wanted to know more about him, so we had him over to supper.” He took a breath. “That’s when he told us about the amnesia and how he was looking for answers about his life. We encouraged him to stay here in town and let us help him.”

“And you truly believe he can’t remember his past?”

“Sure. Why would he lie about something like that?”

“When you said you knew him, I was thrilled,” Marie stated. “I couldn’t wait to tell him. Now I’m regretting that a little bit. I had no idea you would arrest him.”

“You said yourself you had no idea who he was or what he’d done. You can’t be too shocked to discover he was on the run.”

“No, ma’am. No idea,” Milo reiterated. “That boy was trying to be found by someone. He contacted the news station in Dallas, hoping they could spread his story around but the producers wouldn’t help him. Apparently, it didn’t make good news. He also had the local PD fingerprint him and run his prints, but they came back without a match.”

Bethany wasn’t surprised about the fingerprints. Military files weren’t usually included in local print searches. Those were generally limited to the criminal databases. But she was shocked to hear Marcus had made attempts to try to be identified. What sort of game was he playing?

“So am I the first who’s come looking for him? Have there been other instances like the one today?”

“Not a one. As far as we know, he’d never been to Little Falls before. He just ended up here. We never expected this. Marcus arrived in town seven months ago and nothing like this has happened. Are you sure the person who was doing the shooting was after him?”

“Who else would he be after?”

“Well, you’re CIA, aren’t you? Don’t you people have enemies?”

Bethany wanted to quickly reassure Marie that this shooting had nothing to do with her, but she tamped down the thought before she voiced it and said instead, “We’re investigating all possibilities.” She hadn’t done field work except for her time spent tracking Marcus since the night of the ambush. She’d immediately requested and been granted a desk analysis job. It wasn’t unusual for agents to opt out of field work for a brief time, but her reprieve had turned into a permanent position a long time ago. No one except Dillon had brought up the idea of her going out into the field in over nine months’ time. And the chances that someone was targeting her on the exact day she’d located Marcus seemed much too impossible to be true. Marcus had to have been the target of that sniper’s bullet.

She turned her focus away from the incident and to the couple in front of her. They’d been around since this morning and it was now pushing 8:00 p.m. Had they been here all day waiting on news for someone they hardly knew? “What are you two still doing here?” she asked. “Visiting hours have been over for quite a while.”

“We brought something for Marcus, only that Patrolman Dwight won’t let us see him to give it to him.”

“Well, he’s not really allowed any outside belongings.”

“But surely his Bible isn’t included in that,” Marie proclaimed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, well-worn, leather Bible. “I know for a fact he reads from it every night without fail. Maybe you could get it to him?”

The pleading in the woman’s voice was something Bethany couldn’t ignore. “I suppose I can.”

“Thank you,” she said as she handed it over.

Bethany watched the couple load into a pickup, wave and then drive away. She stared at the Bible in her hands. Was this really Marcus’s Bible? When she’d known him, he hadn’t been religious.

She flipped through the pages and noticed writings and markings with notes in the margins. Whoever this belonged to had used it, studied it. She shook her head. Another thing about this entire situation that didn’t seem to make any sense. As she turned to go into the jail, a piece of paper slipped through the pages and landed on the ground. She knelt to pick it up. The paper, too, was well-worn, but it wasn’t a page from the Bible. It was a napkin with a drawing of a woman’s face...a woman with long hair and full lips, in head garb. She recognized it immediately.

The drawing was of her.

Anger burned through her. He claimed not to remember her and now she’d found something like this? But if his feelings for her hadn’t been real, then why the ploy to pretend he cared about her?

The events of the day had left her confused and frustrated. Nothing about all this made sense and she was beginning to wish she’d never discovered Marcus was still alive.

Bethany walked inside, past the on-duty officer—the skinny guy named Dwight who wouldn’t allow Marie inside with the Bible. He was the only one on duty and was engrossed in something on his computer.

“This place really shuts down at night, doesn’t it?” she asked him.

He nodded her way. “We don’t have much activity downtown at night. We usually only keep one or two officers in the precinct while the rest patrol.”

She thought about what Marie and Milo told her about Marcus’s attempts to discover his identity but hesitated asking Dwight about it. Finally she voiced the question. She did need to cover all her bases. “Officer Dwight, before I arrived in town today, did Marcus ask anyone around here to fingerprint him?”

“I heard he asked the sheriff about running his prints because he said he couldn’t remember his name, but I don’t think anything turned up.”

“Do you know if they ran his prints through the military system?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t on duty at the time.”

She thanked Dwight then walked down to the jail area and pressed the automated button that opened the door. Marcus was the only prisoner. The hall was dark but she spotted a small light in the back cell so she knew Marcus was still up. When she approached the cell, she was shocked to see him on his knees, by his cot, head bowed and praying.

The image caught her off guard and she suddenly felt like an intruder. Through the bars, she placed the Bible on the shelf then turned and left, leaving him alone in the private moment.

A feeling of unease coursed through her. She should have been resting easily having proved once and for all that Marcus Allen was alive and that all the suspicions she’d had were true. But her mind was working overtime, trying to process everything, but the events of today were like pieces of different jigsaw puzzles. Was it possible Marcus was telling her the truth? That he’d suffered amnesia and had no idea what had happened to him the night of the ambush?

Bethany closed her eyes and sighed wearily. She’d thought when she’d found him, everything would finally make sense.

Now, nothing did.

She walked back into the bull pen and approached Dwight. “I’d like to go through the evidence gathered today on the rooftop.” She’d watched Dwight bag and tag each item earlier and place it inside the locked evidence cabinet for safe keeping.

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Not for me.”

He shrugged, pushed to his feet and headed for the evidence locker, keys in hand.

Bethany followed behind him and watched as he pressed the key into the lock. It gave without turning and she immediately saw him tense.

“The lock is busted.” He pulled open the cabinet door.

The shelves were empty.

The sniper’s rifle and all the evidence of the rooftop shoot-out were gone.

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