AWOL with the Operative (6 page)

They were silent for a moment, munching on their spare rations. Sam had asked her not to fuss about his health. She had obeyed that request while they were on the move, but now that they were safe and settled she felt a need to question him.

“Your headache—”

“Is no longer a problem. The aspirin took care of that. And please don’t make an issue of the lump I’m wearing up here, either. It’s still a bit sore from that hard whack against the window, but it isn’t giving me any real trouble, I promise.”

“Good.” She hesitated before asking a cautious “Your memory, Sam. Is anything coming back?”

He thought about it for a few seconds before answering her. “There have been a few images, just these quick flashes that come and go before I can hang on to them, never mind make any sense of them. Maybe it’s time we got working on that.”

“You’re ready to have me tell you what you’re doing here and why I’m with you?”

“Might help if I can start connecting some dots.”

He listened patiently, without question or comment, as Eve started from the beginning. She made her story as brief, but complete, as possible, telling him how she and Charlie Fowler were on holiday together at the Yukon skiing village. That they had traveled separately up to the village where he had left her at the end of the week to fly back home. And died on the road to the airport in Dawson, a death that the Mounties were unable to determine was accident or murder and which still had her in its emotional grip. But this last bit she kept to herself.

She did explain, however, that the Mounties had agreed on behalf of the FBI to keep an eye on Charlie Fowler. And since he’d apparently had some connection with organized crime back in the States, the RCMP had promptly contacted the bureau following his death. The bureau had sent Special Agent Sam McDonough to escort her to Chicago. Their bush plane had been shot down en route, allegedly at the orders of crime boss Victor DeMarco.

“That’s everything, Sam.” It wasn’t. There was something more, but Eve had no intention of sharing it with the FBI. They didn’t need to know it. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything about your life before you met me at the lodge. But maybe what I have told you is sparking your memory.”

Sam shook his head. “It isn’t. We’ll have to give it time.” He was quiet for a moment. “This DeMarco character. Why is he trying to kill you?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

“Okay.” Having accepted that, he was thoughtful for another minute. “So, whatever the reason, we were going home to Chicago where I was to deliver you to my squad supervisor.”

“Well, home for you, I suppose, but not for me. I live in St. Louis.”

“And what do you do in St. Louis, Eve Warren?”

“I’m the senior editor for a regional magazine.”

“Huh, impressive.”

“It’s not like one of the big New York magazines, Sam. We just cover the St. Louis metropolitan area—openings and restaurants and what’s trendy on the local scene. Things like that.”

“Family?”

“Not anymore. I just had my mother, and I lost her two years ago. My dad died when I was a teenager.”

Sam murmured his sympathy. Before she could thank him for that, she felt a yawn coming on. She smothered it, wondering what time it was. She checked her watch. Well after nine o’clock already, even though some light had remained in the sky not much more than an hour ago. But then she’d forgotten how long the days were at this time of year.

“I’m exhausted.”

“We could both use a solid night’s sleep,” he said.

She was about to agree and didn’t. She had remembered something. “You can’t go to sleep, not if you do have a concussion. At least not for more than an hour or two at a time. I think that’s what I’ve heard.”

She was afraid he would oppose her argument and was relieved when he agreed.

“All right, I’ll take the first watch. When I can no longer keep my eyes open, I’ll wake you for your shift.” He leaned forward, lowering the wick on the lantern until its glow was reduced to a faint gleam. “Still plenty of oil, but it might be smart to conserve it.”

Huddled together, with their backs against the wall, Eve was prepared for that solid sleep Sam had prescribed. She didn’t get it. The cellar might be above freezing, but it was anything but warm. Even with the door tightly closed, she could feel currents of cold air seeping through the cracks between its planks. And although she was so tired she couldn’t help dozing off, it was a fitful sleep. She kept waking up, shivering against the icy drafts that stirred around the floor.

He didn’t object when, in desperation, Eve scooted against the man at her side, seeking his warmth. Sam McDonough, offering security and comfort with his presence. She valued these along with a surprising gentleness and a sense of humor, both of which had miraculously surfaced from under a brittle crust.

Eve didn’t want him not to find his memory. To wish otherwise would be unthinkable. Still, she sighed, she would regret trading this caring man for the hateful one he’d been before his amnesia, when he’d been nothing but impatient with her.

She could imagine by the way he had treated her then what he must have thought of her. Probably some kind of mercenary wanton willing to go off with an older man for what she could get out of it. If so, his judgment couldn’t have been further from the truth. Eve was certainly no nun, but she did like to think she was a principled woman with decent values and she was in no way promiscuous.

This was no good. Even pressed against him like this, she was still cold, unable to drift off.

She must have made him aware of her discomfort, alerted him with her restlessness. He startled her with a softly growled “The hell with this.” Zipping his coat down, he held both sides of it open to her. “Come on inside here with me.”

Eve didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation, unwise though her action might be. Heaven, she thought when he’d folded the sides of the coat around her and she was sprawled practically on top of him, snuggled against the welcome heat of his body.

It was more than that, though. His effect on her—all right, admit it—was downright sexy. With her face buried against his hard chest, she could hear the beat of his heart, smell his masculine aroma. It was almost more than she could bear.

He must have found it equally arousing. “If you go on squirming against me like this, something is going to happen here that one of us might not want to happen.”

Oh, lord, he was right! She could feel it now, even through all the layers of their clothes. The rigid shaft of a male erection. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Eve fought the temptation of him and immediately stopped wriggling. After another moment, lulled by the reassuring sound of his breathing, she managed to fall into a deep sleep.

Sam had no trouble keeping that first watch. With Eve in his arms like this, it was impossible to relax long enough to so much as drowse. Not when he was so intensely conscious of his desire for her. How soft and warm she felt nestled against him, the seductive scent of her russet hair just beneath his nose and those sweet, feminine curves. Damn, when she’d strained against him like that, he’d wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her. He had almost lost it then.

Face it, McDonough. You’ve got the genuine hots for the lady.

Not smart. Not smart at all with this predicament they were in that had him instinctively needing to protect her. Wanting to protect her. It wasn’t just duty, either. It was something much stronger than that, something beyond lust which included his irrational jealousy of a dead man he found himself battling.

Charlie Fowler. Had he been her boyfriend? It was only reasonable to suppose he must have been since they were alone together in that skiing village. And if Fowler hadn’t been her lover, maybe there was someone special waiting for her back home. Hard to imagine there wouldn’t be with a woman as alluring as Eve Warren.

This was nuts. He had no right to feel frustrated like this over a woman he’d known for only a few hours. Wasn’t he frustrated enough by his memory loss? For all he knew, he could have someone special himself waiting back in Chicago, maybe even a wife and kids. No, he was pretty sure he didn’t. He couldn’t say why he was so certain, only that he sensed on some deep level he was unattached.

But, yeah, that’s what he ought to be concentrating on—getting his memory back. So far all he had were those meaningless scraps. A disturbing image of a collection of paintings bathed in a low, eerie light. Then a room somewhere he didn’t recognize. That was all so far.

Never mind. He’d eventually sort them out. If, that is, he managed to get Eve and him through what tomorrow might bring. With nothing but a single granola bar between them, and maybe an enemy still out there somewhere, he was going to have one hell of a job keeping them alive and Eve safe in this frozen, no-man’s-land.

Chapter 3

E
ve was aware of a faint but steady light in the root cellar. Not the oil lantern. The last time she’d swiveled her gaze in its direction, she had realized it must have exhausted its oil in the night. It was no longer burning.

Now, seeking the source of the light, she discovered little beams of it stealing through the narrow cracks between the planks of the door. Daylight.

The glow was just sufficient for her to read her watch. It was time for her to wake Sam again. They had traded off vigils of wakefulness during the night, with Sam registering no symptoms of a concussion. It seemed he was in the clear.

They had managed between them to get enough rest during the night. But now they needed to be on the move again. Not, however, before Eve answered another need. She had to relieve herself.

Much as she hated to leave the warmth and comfort of Sam’s side, she had no other choice. It was either that or risk an embarrassing accident. She managed to remove herself from his embrace without disturbing him. It wouldn’t hurt to let him go on sleeping until she returned from her errand.

Tucking the sides of his open coat over his chest, Eve got to her feet. Her intervals of slumber had permitted her to recover her strength, but her body paid the penalty of a night on the hard floor in an awkward position. She was as stiff as an old woman.

Taking a moment to restore her circulation and ease her sore muscles, she gazed down at Sam. Even like this, snoring softly and sprawled against the stone wall, he was a powerful figure. The sight of his face, shadowed with the beginning of a beard, rugged features relaxed in sleep, tugged at her with a gut-level sensation of tenderness.

You’ve got to stop this. It’s only going to mean heartbreak for you in the end.

He didn’t stir when she resolutely turned away from him, scraped the door back and climbed out of the cellar. The morning sunlight glinting off the snow was so brilliant it was blinding. No wonder. When she shaded her eyes against the glare with her hand, she saw that the sky had cleared in the night and was now a sharp, pure blue.

What last evening’s twilight and overcast sky had failed to reveal was plainly visible this morning. Far away, above the forest, rose a majestic mountain range. Beautiful, but at this moment there was something more important within easy reach. Behind the remains of the log cabin, and overlooked by them last night, was a weathered privy.

With a silent thanks to whoever had built the tiny structure, Eve hastened across the clearing. Like the root cellar, the privy was still miraculously intact.

After using the facility, and in the absence of water, she had no choice but to wash her hands with the clean snow. Frigid though it was, she scrubbed her face with snow, too.

Refreshed, she started back across the clearing in the still, frosty air. Sam had emerged from the root cellar and was standing at the top of the steps. He grinned at her when she reached him.

“I missed you,” he greeted her. “Where were you?”

“Had to answer the call of nature. In case you, ah, also…” She finished her explanation by nodding in the direction of the privy.

Sam lost no time in following her example. When he returned, he no longer wore the grin. It had been replaced by a slight frown.

“You should have roused me, Eve. We should have been on the move long ago.”

He must have consulted his own watch. She answered him with a pointedly sweet “Good morning to you, too.”

The grin returned, this time a sheepish one. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

There would have been no grin, no apology from the other Sam McDonough, she thought. Just a scowl. No, she didn’t want him not to recover his memory, but she knew that when he did, she would no longer feel this warmth in his company.

“No breakfast before we leave?” she asked, thinking of the second granola bar in her purse.

“We’d better save it for later on.”

Meaning when their need could no longer be ignored. Eve realized he was right.

After sharing the last of the melted water in the can, they set off across the clearing. The track that Sam had been confident last night existed proved to be a reality in the light of day.

The forest immediately swallowed them as they followed the rough lane that wound away toward the south. Narrow though the track was, it permitted them to walk side by side. But they spoke only occasionally and, as if by silent agreement, never about last night’s intimacy in the root cellar.