Forget Me Not (14 page)

Erotic visions flickered through her mind. She held the doctor's gaze with difficulty.

"Well, time's up." Dr. Terrien stood up abruptly. He stretched out a hand. "We're making good progress," he informed her heartily. "I'm going to stay here and take care of some paperwork. I'll see Gabriel tomorrow."

Helen murmured her thanks and made her way back to the waiting room. Gabe was sitting in the same chair, his legs stretched before him, arms still crossed over his chest. 'I'm worried about Mallory," he said, giving her a searching look.

Helen was starting to worry also. "I'll check the message machine at home," she suggested.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the house, accessing the remote messaging system. The only message was from her father. At his irate tone, she flinched, holding the receiver away from her ear.

"Why the hell didn't you call us and let us know?"
he railed.
"We want to see Gabe at the first opportunity. In fact, we're thinking about coming down for a visit. Give us a call. Tell Renault, welcome home."

Helen disconnected the call and slapped the cell phone shut.

"Who was that?" Gabe asked.

"My father. Admiral Johansen just told him you're back." She hadn't called her parents herself. Dealing with them and Gabe at the same time was more than she could handle.

"No message from Mallory," he deduced, coming smoothly to his feet.

"I'm sure she's fine," Helen said, reassuring both of them as she led the way out of the office. "She spends a lot of time with her friend Reggie. He lives right down the street."

"A guy?" Gabe sounded alarmed.

"Don't worry. He's half her size. He's barely an adolescent." She stuck the key in the car door.

He sent her a narrow-eyed look over the top of the car. "I don't care if he's Pee Wee Herman. He's a guy."

Helen glared at him. "Mal and Reggie have been best friends for three years. You try and tell her she can't hang out with him anymore.".

He put his hands up in the air. "Just show me where he lives," he said.

Fair enough.

They drove in silence for a while. Traffic was thick with everyone racing home from work. Helen took a secluded back road and they finally made some progress. Dr. Terriers advice prompted her to say something.

"I think my throat's almost healed," she said casually, keeping her eye on the road.

Gabe said nothing in return. She sensed the tension building in him.

"Dr. Terrien says your subconscious recognizes who I am. So you don't have to beat yourself up anymore," she added. "I'm safe with you."

Hah! Leila would have a good laugh over that one!

"That might be an exaggeration," Gabe drawled.

She glanced at him sharply and found him gazing at her thighs.

Oh, my.
His look made her skin feel prickly. How was she going to resist him? How could she keep him from sinking his claws into her now that she could no longer avoid him?

She leaned forward and snapped on the radio, letting the smooth voice of Garth Brooks come between them.

Gabe hated country music. She played it just to irk him; after all, her days of pleasing Gabe were over.

Moments later, she glanced his way to find him listening contentedly. He caught her eye and smiled. "I think I like country music," he said without any affectation whatsoever. "It's more peaceful than I remember."

Oh, God.
If he did one more thing right, she was going to grab him and kiss him again.

"Eddie?' Noel Terrien didn't have to identify himself. He was doubtless the only person who ever called the man on the other end Eddie. But they'd gone to elementary school together, and the habit was just too old to shake.

"Noel," said the other man, sounding surprised. "You have an update for me?'

"The patient's memories are returning," Noel admitted. He didn't like violating his patient's privacy, but the military world wasn't like the civilian one. With rank came power and the ability to bend the rules. Besides, Noel owed Eddie a favor for securing him this job. His year at the Detox Center had made it hard to find work in the civilian sector.

In the background he heard Eddie's desk chair creak. "What, already?" He sounded disbelieving.

"I'm pleased with his progress," Noel admitted, wishing he could take the credit. "I wouldn't be surprised if he recovers all his memories within a month."

A startled pause followed this announcement. "What about the damage to his frontal lobe? Any sign that it's affecting him adversely?"

"Not that I can tell, but it's really too soon to give you a definitive answer."

"Has he remembered his last mission?"

"Oh, no. I've been focusing on the two years prior. No reason to reawaken unpleasant memories until the earlier ones are reestablished."

"Right."

"But he is remembering his captivity. Just bits and pieces, too fragmented to put together yet. He remembers the name of the man who interrogated him—let me see." Noel consulted his notes. "Seung-Ki was his name."

"Did he reveal any military secrets?"

"We're not at that point yet. The patient seals up like a clam when I try to drag the details out of him."

Thoughtful silence on the other end. "I appreciate you keeping me informed."

"Hmmm," said Noel. He couldn't honestly say that it pleased him, too, but beggars couldn't be choosy. Besides, if the patient's memories affected national security, Eddie had a right to know.

"Keep me posted," said his old friend.

"Will do," Noel replied, adopting the lingo Eddie used with such ease now. He lowered the receiver back into its cradle, slipping Gabe Renault's file into the drawer. He wished he could dismiss the twinge of his conscience as easily.

Mallory regarded the miniature cigar with trepidation. "Where'd you get it?" she asked her friend.

Reggie's freckles were so prominent they could not be disguised by mere shadow. They sat in the gloomy basement mat he'd transformed into a hangout. The old checkered couch was musty with mildew, and it had a few loose springs that got your attention if you sat down in the wrong place.

"Some guy at the beach gave it to me for free," he boasted. He put it to his lips and flicked the lighter with his thumb.

"Wait a minute," Mallory protested. "This is what they warned us about in health class. You can get addicted to this stuff."

"No way," he argued. "They were talking about the hard stuff. All the kids in high school smoke marijuana. It's harmless." The lighter flared, and he stuck the end of the joint into the flame.

Mallory watched uncertainly. She knew Reggie was reckless, but this was taking things too far. The flame illumined his bright red hair and made his blue eyes shine. Then it was gone, leaving a line of smoke that went straight up in a vertical line.

It smelled funny. Mallory leaned away, watching Reggie's reaction. He took a deep drag on it, then gave a series of hacking coughs. He laughed at himself, his eyes watering. "Lemme try that again," he said.

This time he managed to inhale without his lungs convulsing. He held his breath just like they'd seen in the movies. Mallory held her breath, too.

Reggie glanced her way and laughed, expelling the smoke in her direction. "Wow, I can feel it already," he said. "It's like I'm flying. Cool!"

A spurt of curiosity overcame her repugnance.

"Wanna try it?" he said, extending the butt to her.

"Not yet," she said. She imagined her parents' reaction if they found out, and she quailed.

Reggie didn't have to worry about that. His dad was long gone and his mom was at work.

"Wooeeh," he said, taking another hit. "Man, this is so relaxing," he said, flinging himself down on two adjacent cushions. He winced, no doubt encountering a spring.

Mallory knew a moment's envy. She could use some relaxation herself. She was stretched as tight as a drum. The lid was bound to blow off the top of her world, and she didn't know how to stop it.

But she had a gut feeling that sucking on a marijuana cigarette wasn't the answer.

Reggie's dog went crazy upstairs. Reggie didn't seem to notice.

"Someone's here," Mallory guessed, shaking his knee.

" 'Sprobably the postman," he replied, unperturbed.

The spitz upstairs continued to yap. Mallory stood up, feeling uneasy. "I'm going to go check it out," she said, heading for the steps.

The doorbell tang. She hurried toward the front of the house and peered out the window. At the sight of the Jaguar, she shrank back into the shadow. "Oh,
shit!"
she breathed.

She heard them talking. Ohmigod, what should she do? Open the door and pretend everything was good? She had to. Her bike was out front. They knew she was here.

She scooped up the growling spitz with one hand and gripped the doorknob hard with the other. "Hi, guys," she said, pulling the door open. "Looking for me?"

Her mother gave her a friendly smile. "Hi, honey. We were just wondering where you went."

"I'm right here," Mal said, sensing something dangerous in Gabe's taut form as he stood there silently, looking straight into her face.

"Where's Reggie?" he asked.

Mallory gripped the doorknob harder. "Down in the basement," she said. Her heart thudded now in earnest

"I'd like to meet him," her Dad said.

No, no!
"You've met him before," she stalled, striving to sound casual.

"I don't remember," he said succinctly.

It was time for a serious distraction. "Really? Like you didn't remember that woman at the gym?" It took all her courage to throw that one out, because this Gabe she recognized. This was the Gabe who kicked butt, and he was going to kick hers if she wasn't careful.

"Mallory!" Mom gasped.

Gabe's gaze moved past her challenging expression into the darkened house. He took a slow deep breath and she knew with gripping fear that he could smell it. The marijuana smoke.

She was dead.

"Nice try, kid," he said very calmly. "Let me in."

Mom smelled it, too. A look of horrified surprise crossed her face.

Mallory felt suddenly sick to her stomach. She wanted to slam the door in their noses, but that wasn't likely to stop Gabe. She stepped back and opened the door wider. "He's down in the basement," she heard herself say. "I told him not to do it."

W
hat'd you do to him?" Mallory demanded the moment Gabe reappeared at the frontdoor. He'd made her stay with her mother, even though she was dying to save Reggie from the thrashing he was bound to receive.

"Watch your tone," Helen warned, drawing her closer.

Gabe paused before the pair of them, his expression calm. "We just had a talk that's all," he said mildly. He gave Mallory a once-over, his eyes dark with disappointment.

"I didn't try any," she said, ignoring her mother's warning squeeze.

"I didn't think you did," Gabe retorted. "From now on, you two will hang out at our house. We need to sand the deck," he said shortly. And then he strode past them toward the car.

Mallory gaped after him, dismayed by the thought of hard labor but immensely relieved not to have been forbidden to see Reggie again.

"Hop on your bike and come home now," Mom said, releasing her arm. "It's almost time to eat." She followed Gabe to the car.

Mallory stared after her parents, dazed. For the first time ever, they seemed to be in the same team.
Wow,
she thought, her spirits rising from turmoil.
Dad is being totally cool about Reggie's experimentation. Or is he?

She cast a worried glance at the basement door. Was Reggie down there bleeding to death? She'd have to find out later. Gabe was giving her
The Look
out the window of the car. She started for her bike.

The Jaguar pulled out of Reggie's driveway.

"Hey, Mal!"

She had just begun to pedal after the car when Reggie stuck his head out the living-room window, the spitz's grinning face beside him. She braked hard. No signs of a beating.

"I have to work at your house tomorrow," he said, sounding stunned.

"You're lucky he didn't kill you!" she called back.

"He said he'd kill me if I did it again."

"Then you better not."

Reggie shrugged as if to say her father's threats didn't faze him, but he looked pretty shaken.

"See you tomorrow," she said. "What time are you coming over?"

"He said I had to be there at eight o'clock—oh eight hundred," Reggie mimicked, rolling his eyes.

Mallory heaved a groan and started pedaling. She didn't want to get up early tomorrow, but the alternative—a lengthy grounding of the type Gabe used to favor—was even worse.

Considering all that, she pedaled toward home with a curiously light heart.

Goddamn it, he couldn't sleep. Not with the bastards jabbering in the room across the hall. He hoped they weren't planning to come for him again.
Not tonight,
he prayed.
Jesus, God, not tonight.
He was still sore from last night.

Some new guy had wanted a turn with him. Given his slight stature, the guy packed an incredible wallop. It made Gabe wonder if all North Koreans weren't experts in tae kwon do. Every inch of Gabe's torso was beaten and bruised. Of course, he hadn't said a word to dishonor himself, even though he knew everything there was to know about coastal security in the Chesapeake Bay.

Just leave me the hell alone,
he thought wearily. He shifted on the stone ledge, trying to get comfortable. He'd give his eyeteeth for a couple of Ibuprofen.

Cancel that. He didn't want any of his teeth pulled.

Well, shit, now he was wide-awake. There wasn't any going back to sleep with such a ruckus going on. Slowly, painstakingly, he slid to the far right side of his ledge, pausing to rise above the crushing pain in his ribs. At last his shoulder hit the cinder-block wall.

From here, he could see through the peephole of his cell into the room across the hall. It never ceased to amaze him how much technology was crammed into that, little space. Computers, printers, scanners, monitors, zip drives, and routers covered every square inch of tabletop. His captors had every technological gadget known to mankind.