Forget Me Not (27 page)

As though attuned to her desires, he broke away and covered her. His slow, inexorable possession was all the satisfaction she could possibly want. But the look on his face made it twice as exhilarating. His cheeks were flushed with passion; his jaw set at an angle that betrayed pleasure. The burning look in his eyes let her know she was the only woman in the world he loved, and that he loved her absolutely. The fact that he'd survived unspeakable horror just to come home to her said it all.

It was the look, more than anything, that did it. With a ragged cry, Helen surrendered to the exquisite sensations coursing through her. Through slit ted eyes, she watched him, watching her. His look of satisfaction added an unbelievable element to her orgasm, making it unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

She knew the exact moment that his own pleasure spiked. He kissed her at the same time, groaning into her mouth, his eyes closed at last under the power of his release.

He collapsed on top of her, muttering an exclamation that made her smile. A moment later he lifted his head to look at her. "You're beautiful," he said, kissing her again.

Gabe had always been the first to leave the bed, never pausing to relish the feeling they'd shared. She held her breath to see what he would do now. Sure enough, he turned, but he took her with him as he rolled onto his back. She lay sprawled across his larger frame, her body still joined to his.

He put his arms around her, heaved a deep sigh, and closed his eyes. Helen found the perfect place to lay her head. This pose made her feel impossibly close to him, as if she were his blanket, protecting him from the cold, cruel world.

"Gabe?" she whispered, wanting to talk more, thinking he just might convince her to give her heart to him completely if they talked a little longer.

No answer. Peering up at him, she found his eyes closed. His breathing was slow and even, and she realized with amazement and some chagrin that he'd fallen asleep. Just like that.

Stretching out a hand, she managed to snap off the light. He hadn't withdrawn intentionally, she told herself, but the effect was still the same. He was too tired to bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking. The past had left its mark on him, after all.

To think that Gabe's captivity had only wrought good things in him was simply naive. There were plenty of negative consequences—like this sudden exhaustion, for instance. And when the novelty of his return wore off; when the SEALs called him back into service, who was to say he wouldn't fall back into his old habits?

No, she was right to be cautious. Endings this good only happened in fairy tales.

H
elen sat on a bench outside the lecture hall watching the activity in Annapolis Harbor. Mallory, pretending to stalk the pigeons along the walkway, was checking out the plebes, newly arrived at the academy, who passed between the dorms and cafeteria in a tight-knit group. Helen stretched her bare legs out before her, wishing that the sun would pierce the heavy cloud cover so she could at least work on her tan. The flapping of sails and the clanging of chains blended with the cries of seagulls. The scent of an impending storm mingled with the mouth-watering aromas of the restaurants in town.

Helen closed her eyes. Despite the less-than-perfect weather, she smiled with satisfaction at the memory of this morning's romp in bed. Gabe had proven himself very much awake and more than willing to be in bed all day, if her mother hadn't called them down to breakfast.

The jangling of Helen's cell phone pulled her from her reverie. She frowned a second at her purse, then pulled out her phone and opened it. "Hello?" she said.

A significant pause followed her greeting. "Helen, this is Jason," said a voice she'd rather forget.

Jason Miller, Gabe's XO.

"Oh, hi," she answered coolly, recalling Gabe's suspicions that Miller had been involved in his disappearance. Jason had insisted she buy this cell phone soon after. She wished she'd had the forethought to change her number. What could he possibly want from her now?

"I'm calling on Commander Lovitt's behest," he said unexpectedly. "He'd like to see Renault in his office this weekend if possible. He's out of town this week."

Helen sat up straighter. "What's this about?" she asked, though most likely Jason wouldn't tell her. SEAL business was always confidential.

He hesitated, as if measuring how much to say. "Lovitt just heard from the FBI. Apparently your husband sent some files to them from the PDRK, identifying himself as a member of SEAL Team Twelve. Lovitt wants to commend him, that's all. How's he doing with his memories, by the way?"

Thrilled by Jason's news, Helen turned her head toward the lecture hall, hopeful of Gabe's reappearance. The FBI had found his files! Wouldn't he be thrilled to hear it! "Great," she said without thinking. "He's remembered pretty much everything."

The startled silence on the other end recaptured her attention. "Well, not everything," she amended. "He can't remember the last mission."

"I see," said Jason, who sounded alarmed just the same. "But he has memories prior to that?"

"Yes," she said, wondering what he'd done that would make him so nervous.

A ragged bream sounded in her ear. "You know, Helen," Miller added, his tone tense and high-pitched, "he'll never make you happy."

Helen made a face at the phone. Jason's inference was even more unwelcome now than it had been before. "That may be true," she acknowledged, disliking him intensely, "but then, neither will you. I'll pass along your message from the commander. Bye." She slapped the phone shut. "What a nerd!"

"Who was that?"

Gabe's quiet question startled her into dropping the phone. It clattered onto the bench and fell between the slats. "Lieutenant Commander Miller," she admitted, ducking down to get it. "Do you always sneak up on people?"

"I saw you looking for me a second ago," he said, rounding the bench. He stood in front of her with his arms crossed, his held cocked suspiciously to one side.

"I was," she said. "Jason called to convey a message from your commander. Get this: the FBI found the stuff you e-mailed from North Korea!" She put her phone into her purse and smiled up at him, expecting him to be thrilled. "Lovitt wants to see you this coming weekend," she added. "He's out of town right now. Maybe he'll want you back on the team now, especially with your memories returning."

To her consternation, Gabe flinched instead of smiling. He startled Helen by abruptly sitting down beside her, a hand clasped over his right eye.

"Honey, are you okay?" she asked with concern. He'd sat so quickly, it was almost like he thought he might faint

Gabe peeked at her from under his hand and cast her a wry smile. "Honey?" he retorted. "I'm a honey now?" He chuckled with satisfaction and then groaned. "God, what is it about that man that gives me a headache?"

"Who, Lovitt?"

"Miller."

"Oh, him. Yeah, he gives me a headache, too," she admitted.

"Why does he have your number?" Gabe asked, rubbing his temple as he gazed at her through his lashes.

Helen sighed. "It was his idea that I get a cell phone in the first place. Something about Mallory needing to get hold of me."

"Yeah, right." Gabe flinched again. "Damn it!"

"Are you going to be okay? I think I have some aspirin in my purse." She started riffling through it.

"We need to head home," Gabe told her, his tone harsher than the situation merited.

"Okay," Helen agreed, truly worried for him. Was he starting to freak out on her or did his head just hurt? "We've, stayed long enough. Did you get to see some of your old instructors?"

"Yes," he said, grimacing.

"Mallory!" Helen called her daughter from the end of the boardwalk. "Time to go!"

"Easy," Gabe implored.

"Sorry." She tried to help him to his feet, but he shook her off. To make amends, he grabbed her hand and held it tightly all the way to the car. Fortunately, they'd packed their bags this morning and stowed them in the trunk.

She would call her mother and tell them not to expect them for lunch.

They drove straight into a rainstorm. Gabe stared through the blurred windshield at the highway ahead. The lines dividing the lanes of Interstate 95 seemed to bleed one into the next, into the next, creating a streaming effect, though it was probably his vision playing tricks on him. He seemed caught between sleep and wakefulness, unable to commit to either one as Helen drove them home.

What was wrong with him? News that the FBI had found his files ought to have made him ecstatic. His yearlong captivity in hell hadn't been for nothing. He'd made himself look good, not only for escaping, but for bringing back enough intelligence to put a dent into North Korea's terrorist-driven activities.

Lovitt wanted to talk to him this weekend. Like Helen said, with his memories returning, it couldn't be long before he was put on active duty again.

So why had just the mention of Miller's name given him this pounding headache? He'd taken his daily dose of Dexamphetamine rather than Helen's aspirin to help combat it, but it only seemed to dull his senses. Given Commander Troy's misgivings, on top of Sebastian's and Ernest Forrester's, he couldn't afford to walk around like a zombie. He needed to stay sharp in the event that he was still being targeted.

He'd felt sharp as a razor yesterday—why not today?

The answer came to him with burst of clarity:
Because he'd forgotten the Dexamphetamine, that was why.

Not only had he felt better without it, he'd recovered years of his life in one night. He remembered nearly everything, with the exception of the mission-gone-wrong. The most crucial piece of his memory eluded him, still.

Struggling to reason clearly, Gabe stared at Helen's slim fingers, coiled so trustingly in his. She cast him a worried glance, no doubt wondering at his continued depression. He dredged up a smile for her, then reached into his right pocket and pulled out the narrow pillbox to give the Dexamphetamine a considering look.

"Stuff makes me sleepy," he commented out loud.

She slanted him a frown. "It's supposed to keep you awake."

He jammed the pills back into his pocket. "Doesn't work," he said, dropping his head limply against the headrest.

"Close your eyes and take a nap," she encouraged. "We'll be home in a couple hours." She peeked over her shoulder at Mallory who was engrossed in the novel Gabe had started with her last week.

Gabe turned his head also, giving Mallory a quick look of approval. His gaze went past her, out the rear window. There, an unmarked police car, same model as the Chrysler that had nearly run him down, was tailgating them.

Gabe straightened in his seat, shaking off his drugged haze. "How long has that car been behind us?" he asked, his heart beating faster.

Helen glanced into the rearview mirror. "I'm not sure," she said, studying it. "Is it a cop? I'm not speeding."

He stared hard at the driver, but the wet weather and the windshield wipers kept the man's face indiscernible. Still, Gabe didn't like the situation. "Pull off at the next rest stop," he advised. He reached down and withdrew the Glock 23 from the holster strapped to his calf.

Helen gasped at the sight of his weapon. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, her hands gripping the steering wheel. "Where did you get that?"

"Calm down." He gave her a steady look. "It's just a precaution. There's some unsettled business going on, that's all. I don't want you involved in it."

He saw the color drain from her face. "What are you talking about, 'unfinished business'?" she asked

He checked the ammunition magazine and slipped the weapon out of sight again, deliberating how much to tell her.

He didn't want Helen worried about him, but at the same time, it was in her best interest to be informed. She had Mallory to think of, after all.

He positioned himself against the door, so he could see out the back and the front of the car at the same time. "Someone tried to get rid of me in Pyongyang," he explained, as casually as possible so as not to overwhelm Mallory, who was staring at him, not blinking. "They've tried again more recently, and I don't think they've given up yet."

Mallory slipped lower in the seat, so that her head was below the window.

"Stay there," Gabe said with a nod.

"Okay."

"Stop scaring her," Helen said, on a sharper note. He looked at her, surprised.

"You're telling me that someone has tried to kill you and they're going to try again," she repeated.

She didn't have to put it quite that melodramatically. "It has to do with weapons that were disappearing before the teams could get to them," he explained. "I might have realized who it was and confronted them. They're afraid I'll remember now."

She divided her attention between him and the highway. The angle of her eyebrows made it clear she didn't believe him.

Great, his wife thought he was paranoid, too. "You can ask your dad," he said with some annoyance. "He's the one who put the theory together."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "Okay," she said, with an intonation that meant,
Now you've really lost your mind.
A second later she added, "There's a rest stop in two miles."

He'd already seen the sign. "Pull off. We'll see if this guy follows us."

The next two miles took an eternity. The only sound in their vehicle was that of the rain and the slapping of the windshield wipers as they tried and failed to clear the glass. Helen had stopped asking questions, but her gaze flicked repeatedly to the rearview mirror.

"He's following," she said as she pulled onto the ramp.

"Go ahead and park the car," he said, infusing reassurance into his tone. "Right up front with everyone else."

She did as he said, pulling into a slot between an empty economy car and a pickup truck with a dog in the back. With the engine still running, they watched the navy Chrysler creep past and nose into a parking place farther down.

"Stay in the car," Gabe said, easing open the passenger door. If he was going to be targeted in public, he wasn't going to jeopardize his family in the process. He slipped into the warm rain, pulling the Glock free of his pant leg at the same time and tucking it under his shirt, which he hastily tugged loose.