Undercover Memories (23 page)

Katy was safe. But what about John?

A Few Days Later:

“Y
OU CAN GO HOME TOMORROW
if there’s someone to help you out for a few days,” the doctor said.

John looked at Paige, whose perfect lips curved in a suggestive smile. “I think I can squeeze you in,” she said. “If there isn’t a wife or a girlfriend—”

“Just you,” John interrupted, and he knew it would always be just her. Always.

The doctor finished bandaging the wound and whistled as he walked toward the door. Pausing, he looked back. “How that knife missed every important organ is beyond me,” he said. He tapped the wall with his hand and added, “You are a lucky man.”

John knew he was a lucky man. He was alive, Paige was with him, Katy had left the hospital days before, Aleksey Smirnov, aka Anatola Korenev, was dead. And the icing on the cake?

He knew who he was in a way he hadn’t since he was ten years old.

“I think I’ve heard everything, but in such bits and pieces that there are some things I’m confused about,” Paige said, settling herself on the bed next to him. She crossed her long legs as she settled in, her hips by his head. He couldn’t wait until he healed.

“So, explain.”

“Which part?” he asked.

“Just start at the beginning and I’ll stop you when I get bored.”

“Well, let’s see. My mother died when I was very young. She’d been sick for a while and one day she was just gone. My father remarried after a while, a woman named Mary.”

“Did you like her?”

“I’m not sure. I think I did. I think I was also jealous because suddenly I had to share my dad. They had two little boys back-to-back and then Dad got appointed ambassador to Kanistan. We all moved there together. I was about nine or ten, Tyler was two or three and Cole was a year younger than him. We lived in a really neat house, I remember that.”

“Where?”

“On the outskirts of Traterg. And things went pretty well. Dad got friendly with one of his assistants and he and his wife came to the house once in a while, my stepmother joined all sorts of clubs, I liked having brothers and I didn’t have to go to a real school, I got to have a tutor. There always seemed to be parties and stuff to do.”

“Were you aware of the things Irina mentioned, you know, the border tensions and the police corruption and all that?”

She was absently running her fingers through his hair as they talked. He never wanted her to stop. “No, we were pretty sheltered.”

“And then you said the circus came to town.”

“That’s right. We were all supposed to go, but Dad called in the afternoon and told my stepmother he had to work late and we should go without him. So we did. Right in the middle of the big show in the tent, Cole got sick and started throwing up so we had to come home. Tyler was crying and I thought it was totally unfair that a stupid baby ruined our good time. Nice, huh?”

“You were a kid.”

“I know. Dad was home by then and he went to help my stepmother with Cole, and that’s when the doorbell rang. Usually a servant answered it but they’d gotten the evening off because we were all going to be away from the house, so I went to the door.”

“And saw a clown.”

“And saw a clown. He seemed surprised to find me standing there. He was holding a box and I thought that somehow my stepmother or dad had arranged to have a treat delivered to me because Cole ruined everything. The clown said the box was for my father, and then he handed it to me and I saw the ring on his hand. A black oval with a gold owl. He left right away.”

Talking about this for the third or fourth time was beginning to domesticate it in his mind. At first these memories had been like living with a tiger in the house, but now it was more like an unruly cat that came and went without too much fuss. Still, he knew he was talking faster and he knew his heart had sped up, but Paige’s fingers were still touching his head, her strokes a little firmer now, as though she understood.

“I put the box on the table but it was too much. A clown had delivered it, I knew it was for me. So, I started to unwrap it. That’s when Mary, my stepmother, came into the room and saw what I was doing. When I told her about the clown she seemed to think I’d made it up and she scolded me for touching something addressed to my father. I got furious with her. I knew she never would have scolded Cole or Tyler. I told her I hated her.”

“And your father heard?”

“Yes. He was livid. He scolded me, too, and I think I told him I hated him, as well, and then stomped off as they unwrapped the box. The next thing I knew, there was a horrible explosion, I was flying through the air, the babies were screaming....

“And then the pain, I was on fire…and then I was waking up and I didn’t know who I was or what had happened to me. Nothing. A total blank.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, his eyelids. “Oh, my poor darling. I think you felt so guilty because of the way everything happened that you couldn’t bear to remember. It was too painful.”

“I think you’re right,” he murmured. “I blamed myself.”

“And made up your mind you didn’t deserve to be loved because you were bad. You know now that’s all wrong, don’t you?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he said. “I’m catching on.”

Her laugh was soft and thrilling and was followed by the touch of her lips on his. She was the best medicine in the world. God, how he loved her.

“You remember Irina told us about the ambassador and the bomb, right? She said the man was having an affair and the woman’s family retaliated when he ‘got rid’ of her.”

“I remember. But I don’t believe it for a minute.”

“Do you know how you ended up living with the Ognevas?”

“Not really. All I know was the Ognevas told me they were my grandparents, but it was obvious they couldn’t stand the sight of me. It wasn’t until my aunt contacted me years later that I learned the truth, that she’d been told we all died in that explosion. I learned that my father’s family had disowned him when he refused to work the family business, which was worth millions. That’s where all the money came from. Aunt Carol saw my picture in the paper. Apparently, I’m the spitting image of my father, her brother, Charles. She wanted to meet me, she wanted to know if it was possible I was her nephew and if I knew what happened to my brothers. And she told me she was dying and she wanted an heir, or three of them if I could find the other two. I wish I’d been able to tell her I did before she died a few days ago.”

“And left you filthy rich. It must be nice to know you weren’t a crooked cop, although I believe I told you so.”

He pointed at his lips and she smiled as she kissed him again. “I know you did. From now on I’ll believe every nice thing you say about me, no matter how unfounded,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t take bribes. Andy Patter, my partner, did. He and his wife adopted a baby and then the birth mother refused to sign the final papers unless he paid her. He took the bribes and gave the money to the woman. I got home from Canada to find he was under investigation, so I took the rap. The department let it go without pressing criminal charges to save face, and Andy and his family disappeared.”

“You gave up your reputation.”

“Better than him losing his baby. Besides, I had plenty of money thanks to my aunt and a new goal in life: find my brothers.”

“So, you took off for Kanistan.”

“Yes. I spoke with the Ognevas. I told them I knew they weren’t my grandparents and demanded to know about the rest of my family. They said my parents died in the explosion but they weren’t sure about the boys.”

“Did you believe them?”

“At the time I wasn’t sure. I decided to go to Traterg and find someone official to talk to, but I got a major runaround instead. My plane was leaving the next day so I decided to come home and go back after I did some investigation from this end. Someone forged my papers, someone changed my name from John Oates to John Cinca. Why? I didn’t know the Ognevas called someone after I left or that the call got them killed, and I have no idea why.”

“It seems as though someone didn’t want them talking to you again.”

“Exactly.” He sighed deeply. “But I do know Aleksey Smirnov delivered the bomb to the house and that he was with the police. Why would anyone want to obliterate my family or even just my father? Did it have something to do with diplomacy or their border problems? That’s what I have to find out.”

“What about your brothers? Do you know if they survived?”

“No,” he said slowly. “On the other hand, since getting back the early memories as well as the later ones, I have a memory of the bombing. The boys were off in the bedroom wing, I was relatively close by to the detonation. Plus, my last memory is of one or both of them screaming. If I survived, I think they must have survived, as well. I promise you this: I will find them and I will uncover what happened to my father and stepmother, or my name isn’t John Oates.”

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” she said.

“How about the name Paige Oates?” he asked and held his breath.

“Hmm—” she murmured. “Kind of has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“I think so.”

“Close your eyes,” she said so softly her voice was like a memory, her touch as light as a sigh. “Go to sleep, my love.”

They fell silent, and eventually her caresses coaxed him into unconsciousness.

And when he dreamed, it wasn’t of owls.

* * * * *

Alice Sharpe’s THE LEGACY continues
next month with
MONTANA REFUGE.
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Mason
by Delores Fossen

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Chapter One

The scream woke Deputy Mason Ryland.

His eyes flew open, and Mason stumbled from the sofa in his office where he’d fallen asleep. He reached for his shirt but couldn’t find it. He had better luck with the Smith & Wesson handgun that he’d left on his desk.

He threw open his office door and caught the scent of something he darn sure didn’t want to smell on the grounds of his family’s ranch.

Smoke
.

The wispy gray streaks coiled around him, quickly followed by a second scream and a loud cry for help.

Mason went in the direction of both the smoke and the voice, racing out into the chilly October night air. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alerted. A handful of his ranch hands were running toward the cabin-style guesthouse about a hundred yards away. It was on fire, the orangey flames licking their way up the sides and roof. And the place wasn’t empty.

His newly hired horse trainer, Abbie Baker, was staying there.

That got Mason running even harder. So did another shout for help. Oh, yeah, that shout was coming from the guesthouse all right.

“Call the fire department,” he yelled to one of the ranch hands.

Mason also shouted out for someone to call his brothers as well even though they would soon know anyway. All five of them, their wives and their children lived in the family home or on the grounds of the ranch.

Mason made it to the guesthouse ahead of the others, and he tried to pick through the smoke and the embers flicking through the night air. He hurried to the sound of his trainer’s pleas for help.

And he cursed when he saw her.

Abbie was in the doorway, her body half in and half out of the house, and what was left of the door was on her back, anchoring her in place.

The smoke was thick and black, and the area was already hot from the flames, but Mason fought his way through just as one of the ranch hands caught up with him. Rusty Burke. Together, they latched on to the door and started to drag it off Abbie. Not easily. It was heavy and bulky, and it didn’t help that the flames were snapping at them.

Mason didn’t usually think in terms of worst-case scenarios, but he had a split-second thought that his new trainer might burn to death. The possibility gave him a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, and Rusty and he threw the door off her. In the same motion, Mason latched on to her arm and dragged her away from the guesthouse.

“I couldn’t get out,” she said, her voice clogged with smoke and fear.

“You’re out now,” he let her know.

Out but not necessarily safe. The ranch hands were already there with the hoses, but he doubted the house would stand much longer. If it collapsed, Abbie could still be burned or hurt from the flying debris.