One foot in front of the other. Again and again. But the fog was so thick it obliterated her view. Where was she? Were they still chasing her, or had they lost her in the murky gray of the night?
Pain splintered her side and her legs buckled. She pressed her hand to the ache, but blood seeped through her thin cotton gown and ran down her legs. A dizzy spell assaulted her, and the stars above twirled like a merry-go-round that wouldn’t stop.
Nausea rose to her throat, the salty breeze stinging her cheeks. Her toe caught in a clump of sea oats. She cried out and hit the ground. Seashells stabbed her palms, and she tasted salt and sand. A voice called out behind her.
Terror gripped her. She tried to push herself up, but she was too weak. A wave broke, and water sluiced over her bare legs. Then exhaustion overrode her fear, and she fell into a tunnel of blinding darkness.
* * *
"We’ve found a woman."
Detective Graham Salt’s heart stopped, his fingers tightening around his cell phone. "Is it Carmen?"
"We’re not sure; just get over here."
Graham was already running toward his Jeep. "Is she…alive?"
He could barely make himself say the words. Carmen, his beautiful wife, had been missing for the past four weeks. He’d been out of his mind with worry and fear.
The locals had thought it was just a lover’s spat. But he had wondered. They were so close to Nighthawk Island. He’d heard about the mysterious things that had happened before, the research experiments…
"Yes, she’s alive, but unconscious," Detective Black said, dragging him back to the moment. "But I’m not sure it’s her."
He swallowed, wondering why they couldn’t be certain. Damn it, they had a picture, a description. And if she was alive, wouldn’t she tell the detective her name?
Graham drove like a bat out of hell toward the deserted beach area, questions assailing him. Where had she been all this time? What had happened to her?
The bitter fight they’d had the night she’d disappeared sent a fresh wave of guilt through him. She’d wanted him to leave the force.
He’d refused. His job was his life.
She’d left in a flurry.
Whatever had happened to her, it was his fault. For God’s sake, he should have been more understanding. More attentive.
The first night they’d made love flashed into Graham’s mind. Her tender pale skin. The glow of moonlight highlighting that unruly auburn hair. The sight of her naked, lithe body stretched out on the sand.
She’d told him she’d fantasized about making love on the beach. He’d promised to fulfill that fantasy and more.
But he’d failed her.
His tires screeched to a halt, and he jumped out, running down the embankment. The wind whistled from the ocean. Seagulls swooped down hunting food. The waves crashed against the Savannah seashore.
He spotted Detective Black kneeling over a body. His heart froze, the air in his lungs whooshing into a fireball of agony.
The officer glanced up. Stepped aside. Moonlight illuminated the shadows.
Carmen.
His throat swelled as he approached. She was alive. Pale and bruised, with a blanket wrapped around her. But she was breathing.
Relief sailed through him.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She squinted. Tried to focus.
He smiled tentatively, wondering if she’d ever forgive him. Wishing they could turn back time.
"Carmen?"
The purple and yellow bruises under her eyes darkened as her eyes widened. A tear trickled down her battered cheek.
"Thank God we found you." Ironic he’d found her here though. Did she remember their special place? Was that where she’d been going — to their cove?
She shrank back, her eyes white against the inky darkness. "Get away from me."
Graham rocked back on his heels, shocked. "What? Carm, it’s me —"
She threw off the blanket, struggling to get up. But she was so weak her body sagged back to the ground. Detective Black patted her arm. "Just rest, ma’am. The paramedics should be here any minute."
Graham reached for her. He had to hold her. Make sure she was all right. Make up for all the time they’d lost.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice brittle. "And why are you calling me Carmen?"
Graham gaped at her in stunned silence. The waves crashed and broke. A siren wailed from the top of the embankment. Red lights swirled in a circular motion over the parched sand.
"Because that’s your name. Don’t you remember, honey? It’s me. Graham. Your husband."
She bit her lip. "No, I d-don’t know you. I have to get out of here."
"You’re going to the hospital," Detective Black said. "You need to be checked out, ma’am. You’re bleeding and suffering from shock."
"No, no hospital," she screeched.
Fear wrapped its icy hands around Graham’s heart, fury mounting. What in God’s name had happened to her? Who had hurt her?
And why didn’t she recognize him?
The paramedics raced down the incline, sliding on the loose sand, hauling a gurney and medical kit with them. Helpless, Graham moved aside.
"No, don’t let them take me to the hospital! They’ll find me!" She shoved at their hands, fighting wildly. The sheer terror in her cries tore him in knots.
He reached out to calm her, but she bolted backward. She didn’t want him with her, either.
Still, she was his wife. He had to protect her. Had to find a way to comfort her.
But how could he when she appeared to be frightened of him, when she didn’t remember him or want him near her?
Carmen faded in and out of consciousness as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. The paramedics had started an IV and placed a makeshift bandage over her wound.
But they were taking her to the hospital.
She couldn’t go back inside that place. If she did, she’d never get out alive. But who could she turn to for help? Who could she trust?
Graham Salt? He claimed she was his wife….
So, why didn’t she remember him? And why did she sense that he was the reason she was in danger?
The siren wailed in her ears as she squinted through the darkness. The harsh set to Graham’s mouth looked as if he never smiled. And that dark brown hair, it was almost black in the twilight. But it was his eyes that drew her. They were dark, too, tortured, haunted. As if he’d seen death and the underbelly of the world and had barely survived.
Just as she had these last few weeks.
If she could only remember what had happened to her. Who had forced her… No. She pushed away the images bombarding her.
The needles. The sterile white room. The surgical mask.
The pain.
"Carmen, I’m so sorry." Graham’s husky voice sounded strained. "I don’t know what happened to you, but we’ll get through this. I’ll make sure they take care of you at the hospital."
Fear choked the air from her lungs. "No, please…don’t s-send me back there."
He leaned over her, searching her face. "Shh, it’s all right."
"No…" Tears streamed down her cheek, her courage waning. She hated to beg….
The ambulance suddenly swerved. Something slammed against it. Another vehicle. Then it swung sideways again, weaving back and forth.
Graham gripped her hand. "What the hell’s going on?"
"Someone’s sideswiping us!" the driver shouted.
Carmen reached for Graham, not wanting him to leave her, but he dropped her hand, drew a gun and checked out the window.
The car rammed them again, and the ambulance bounced and skidded.
"Hang on!" The paramedic shouted.
Tires screeched. The ambulance spun around in a circle, then careened out of control. One, two, three times around. Then it slammed into a wall. Metal crunched. Glass shattered.
Graham and the EMT flew forward.
The back doors swung open. Two men in surgical masks jumped inside. Something shiny glinted in the darkness. A gun. Carmen tried to scream, but one of the men shoved an oxygen mask over her face, drowning out her cry. The other man knocked the EMT out cold. Graham fired, but the bullet pinged off the ceiling. Then one of the masked men tackled him. Fists pounded. Grunts echoed in the interior.
Carmen shoved at the mask as Graham sank to the floor beside her.
* * *
Graham slowly roused from the black hole.
Dried blood caked his forehead, and he was
disoriented; his head throbbed. He had no idea
how long he’d been unconscious. A few minutes?
Hours? Days?
What the hell had happened? He scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked to clear his vision. The murky gray of night clouded the room. The scent of antiseptics and the clang of hospital machinery whirred in the background. Where was he?
Memories floated back. He’d found his wife. Thank God. But Carmen didn’t remember him. She was hurt, bleeding. They were taking her to the hospital. The ambulance.
Then they’d been ambushed.
Damn it. What the hell was going on? Where was Carmen?
He staggered toward the door. But a sound from the corner stopped him cold. A low moan.
He spun around and saw her. Lying on a hospital bed.
She looked pale and small against the white sheets, but her eyes were open. He stumbled toward her, his heart in his throat. "Carmen?"
"I…thought you were dead," she whispered.
"Shh, no, it’s all right." He gently feathered her hair from her face. "I’m okay. What about you?"
"I’m all right. What’s happening?" she asked. "Why did they bring us here?"
"I don’t know." He memorized her features, praying for recognition, for the love to return to her eyes, but she still wore that blank expression. She didn’t completely trust him.
But she had no one else.
He saw the realization, and hated it.
"But I’ll get us out of here." He cradled her face in his hands. "I promise. You have to trust me, Carmen. I won’t let anything else bad happen to you."
She tried to sit up, but blood seeped through her gown. Furious, he reached for the material to pull it aside.
She grabbed his hands to stop him. "What are you doing?"
"You’re hurt, damn it. I’m going to take care of you."
"No."
Terror and embarrassment flashed in her eyes. To her, he was a stranger. She didn’t remember their intimate touches, that he’d seen her every way imaginable. That he’d loved every inch of her with his hands and tongue and mouth.
And he desperately wanted to do it again.
"I’m just going to check the wound," he said in a low voice. "Re-dress it."
She studied him for a heartbeat, then resigned, closed her eyes and turned her head away. His chest constricted as he lifted the material and removed the bandage. He’d expected a gunshot wound, but no…the jagged line of a knife wound puckered her skin. The stitches were fresh, the skin slightly infected, a trickle of blood oozing from beneath.
Rage burned through him as he scrounged in the drawer near her bed, found supplies and re-dressed it. She remained tense, completely and utterly immobile, until he’d finished.
"How long have we been here?" he asked in a gruff voice.
"I don’t know. A day or two, I think." She bit her lip, her voice low. "They…they drugged you. I thought you were dead."
He tilted her face so she had to look at him. "I wouldn’t leave you." Guilt assaulted him, though. What if his investigation, his obsession with Nighthawk Island had caused them to come after her?
The dam of tears she’d been holding back broke. He crushed her against him, rocking her back and forth as she trembled in his arms. She clung to him for several minutes, then finally pulled away and composed herself.
"Are you strong enough to walk?"
A pained smile of courage curved her mouth. "I did it once. I can do it again."
He nodded, then stumbled toward the window and looked outside. "We’re on Nighthawk Island. I’m going to get you away from here, sweetheart, then I’ll find out the reason they brought us here."
He’d find out what the hell had happened to his wife. And he’d make whoever had hurt her pay with his life.
Graham tried to formulate a plan to escape while he picked the lock on the door, but his mind flashed back to Carmen's wound. What the hell had these maniacs done to his wife?
The obsession that had driven him to investigate Nighthawk Island intensified. It had started with his missing brother, Quinn. Three months ago, Quinn had left his military career with no word about his plans. But Graham had learned he was on Nighthawk Island. Whether he was one of the doctors or a target for one of the scientists' research experiments, Graham didn't know. His brother had seen some dark things overseas. Had even done some things he refused to discuss. Had he allowed the dark side to pull him under?
Graham would find out. Just like he'd find out why they'd carved his wife up like some damn guinea pig.
Rage and guilt tightened his lungs, but he forced himself to exhale. To keep his head. He had to if he was going to get them out of this mess.
"Graham?"
He turned, saw Carmen sliding from the hospital bed. She seemed so pale and fragile that he rushed to her.
"I want to stay with you," she said softly. "Find out what happened here."
His heart slammed in his chest. "No, it's too dangerous. I'll come back once you're safe."
"Don't you understand? I won't be safe until I remember what they did to me."
He cupped her face in his hands. "Trust me. I'll find the answers."
Tears glistened in her eyes. "You don't know what it's like to wake up and have your mind erased." She pressed a shaky hand over her heart. "It's important I help you. They did this to me — "
"No, sweetheart," he said in a gruff voice. "They did this to us. And it's all my fault."
Tenderness flickered in her eyes. For a moment he thought she might recognize him. Then footsteps pounded outside the door.
"What if we don't make it out alive?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
He pulled her to him, traced her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then lowered his mouth. Her lips parted, surprise flared in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you a new memory, something to fill that black hole." With every ounce of passion he possessed, he claimed her mouth, his pulse racing as his lips melded with hers. Raw need flamed inside him as he tasted her lips, remembered the feel of her beneath him, heard the soft little gasp that meant he'd stirred her desires.
The footsteps pounded closer. He forced himself to release her. Arousal flushed her cheeks, and his body ached with need.
The doorknob turned.
He motioned for her to pretend sleep while he hid behind the door. She climbed in bed just as the heavy metal screeched open. A chunky middle-aged man appeared, garbed in white, a hypodermic in his hand. Graham jumped him from behind.
The man tried to stab the needle into Graham's neck, but Graham slammed his fist into the man's nose, then landed another blow to his stomach, sending him to the floor. Graham grabbed the needle, flicked it above the man's face, taunting him. "Why were we brought here?"
"I — I don't know."
He jerked him by the collar, nearly choking him. "Tell me, damn it."
"I…swear," the man screeched. "I'm an orderly. I just follow orders."
Graham glanced at Carmen, saw the terror in her face, then jammed the needle into the man's arm and watched him float into unconsciousness.
"Come on, let's go." For a moment he wasn't sure she'd follow. But she ran to him. He yanked the orderly's security tag off his belt, grabbed her hand and they slipped into the hall.
As Graham led her through the maze of corridors, every instinct in Carmen's body warned her to run from this place. And from Graham. He was dangerous.
But that kiss…that kiss had awakened something inside her. A memory maybe…of another time. A man's lips touching hers. His hands…everywhere. Giving her pleasure. Making her forget…forget what? Had she done something to bring this ordeal upon herself?
If only she could remember…
The white walls blurred as they maneuvered the hallways, the rooms on each side identical. Solid metal doors, security panels and heavy locks barred the entrance. Sickening hospital smells permeated the emptiness, the sterile cold walls adding to the sinister feeling. Did they have other unwilling patients locked inside? Others who needed rescuing?
Suddenly Graham jerked her against the corner wall, pressing her behind him. Someone was up ahead. She clung to his hand, her breath in her throat as they waited for the person to pass. Graham's eyes met hers. He motioned toward the left. She nodded and crept along behind him. A sign up above read Laboratories. Another said Restricted.
He edged toward the door and swiped the orderly's security pass through the machine. The double doors slowly opened. Panic zinged through Carmen.
She froze, palms sweating. She'd been through these doors before. Something bad had happened to her behind them.
A guard lurched from the corner and shoved a gun into her back. Another grabbed Graham, aimed a pistol at his temple, then yanked them down the hall.
"Stop it," Carmen pleaded. "Let me go."
"Someone wants to see the two of you," one of the guards said. Heels clicked on the hard floor, then the guard tossed them inside a laboratory. A tall, dark-haired man with a scar on his cheek turned toward them and glanced up, his expression lethal.
Graham released a curse. "Damn it, Quinn, what the hell's going on?"
Carmen gasped, her knees buckling. Another memory flashed in her head. "You know this man?"
Graham nodded, his eyes clouded with emotions. "He's my brother."
Carmen stared at Quinn in shock. A faint memory stirred though, and her heart pounded. "Oh my God, you're the one —"
"Shut her up," Quinn ordered.
A guard pressed his weapon into Graham's temple, and Carmen froze. Another guard gagged her, then tied her hands behind her back while the first one secured Graham's hands.
Graham shot Quinn a lethal look. "What's going on, Quinn?"
"You shouldn't have come here, little brother," Quinn snarled. "But you couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
"No, I'm on the law's side." Anger darkened
his voice. "So, it's true? You've crossed the
line."
Quinn shrugged. "It pays more than the government."
"Since when did you start caring about money?" Graham asked. "You were always the noble one, dedicated to serving your country."
"Yeah, look what it did for me." Quinn gestured toward the scar on his face. "And that's just the one you can see."
Carmen flinched, struggling to recall what exactly had happened when she'd been held captive here before. She remembered lying on a metal table, Quinn standing over her, a scalpel —
"You want us to finish them off?" one of the guards asked.
Quinn shook his head. "No, let me have the pleasure. Then I'll know my brother won't be breathing down my neck again."
Quinn pointed his gun at Graham, then forced Graham and Carmen through a long series of corridors, each side flanked with various labs. When they walked outside, he led them down a trail through a deserted part of the island. Sea oats bushed Carmen's legs, her feet slipping into the sand pebbles as they broke through the clearing of palm trees near the shore. A small boat had been tied up near the dock. Quinn gestured for them to climb inside.
Carmen shuddered. He was going to shoot them, then dump their bodies in the ocean for the sharks to devour. How could he kill his own flesh and blood?
Her chest squeezed as a memory surfaced. Quinn…he'd called her, urged her to meet him, asked her to convince Graham to give up the investigation. That had been the reason she'd fought with Graham.
Wait — there was something else. A photograph she'd taken. Quinn had wanted it. But what was in the picture, and why was it so important?
* * *
A few minutes later Graham huddled near his
wife, trying to shield her from the wind and
salty spray as Quinn cut the boat through the
choppy waters.
"Let her go, Quinn."
"Shut up," Quinn said. "Enjoy these last few minutes."
Carmen burrowed beside him, her body shivering. Graham ached to touch her, to hold her, to make her remember how volatile it had been between them. He wanted to make love to her again, just one more time, to imprint the memory in her mind so she could carry it with her always.
Till death do us part. He'd never thought the death part would come so soon. And now Carmen was going to die because of him.
He nudged closer. "I love you, Carmen. I'll get you out of this. I promise."
She turned imploring eyes up to him, and he pulled at the gag around her mouth with his teeth until it slid down her chin. Then he claimed her lips with his, sealing their love with his kiss, thrusting his tongue along her lips and tasting the salty breeze and her desire. But fear lingered in her taste, too.
"I'm sorry, Graham, I — I saw Quinn before. He — "
"We're here." Quinn announced as he beached the boat.
Graham angled himself in front of Carmen to protect her. "Listen, Quinn, let Carmen go. You don't need her," he said. "You can tell them she drowned. Just take my body back for proof —"
"You should have stayed away." Suddenly Quinn raised the gun. "Go ahead, fight me brother."
Graham lunged at him, knocking him backward. The sound of a gunshot pierced the air.
Carmen screamed. Graham grunted, a sharp pain slicing through his left shoulder. Blood oozed from the gunshot wound, a burning sensation rippling down his arm. Then Quinn shoved him over the side of the boat onto the shore.
Graham struggled to sit up. "No, don't hurt her!"
Carmen jerked against Quinn, but his grip was so tight, her legs buckled, and she fell onto the sand beside Graham. He crawled toward her, his gaze pinned to his older brother. Then Quinn pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to his chest.
He was wired. The truth hit Graham. Quinn hadn't shot him to kill him, but to save his life. The blood in the boat would be his evidence.
Quinn knelt, untied Graham, and shoved the gun in his hand. Graham narrowed his eyes. Was his brother serious? He expected Graham to shoot him?
This had gone too far.
He shook his head, one hand pressed over the blood soaking his shirt.
Quinn stared at him for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he grabbed the gun and fired it into his own leg. A grunt of pain followed, then he flicked at the microphone beneath his shirt.
"I'm hit, but they're dead. On my way back." Giving Graham one last look of regret, he turned and limped back to the boat.
Carmen released a sob, her eyes gaping in shock. "Oh my God, Graham, are you all right?"
"He just helped us escape," Graham said through gritted teeth.
"But he shot you."
"He had to make it look good, as if we'd
struggled. He needed my blood in the boat to
confirm my death."
She tore at the hem of her gown, ripped a layer away and tied it around his arm. His throat thick, he pressed a hand to her side, then cupped her face. His heart was still racing. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. Tears filled her eyes as she kissed him. "I think I — I remember what they did to me."
Graham swallowed hard, afraid to ask. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know….
Still stunned from the gunshot wound, Graham cupped Carmen's face in his hands. Whatever had happened to her had been his fault. He wasn't sure he was prepared to hear the details. His imagination had already flared out of control. Had the scientists stolen her eggs, removed an organ…?
But he had to face the truth or their marriage would never survive. Could she ever forgive him, though?
"Carm, I'm so sorry I got you into this. I should have listened to you that night when we fought." He slid his hand in her hair to pull her closer, but a gunshot pinged through the air, grazing his cheek.
Carmen screamed and swirled around, but Graham put himself between her and the shooter.
"Run!"
She raced toward the wooded area offshore, and he vaulted forward, trying to shield her with his body as they ran. Another gunshot blasted the sand beside him, sending a spray of broken shells and sand pelting his legs.
"Graham!"
Carmen turned, her eyes wide with terror. He grabbed her hand, yanking her through the sea oats, then into the woods. The sound of footsteps on seashell crunched behind them. The shooter was on their tail.
"Go toward the cove!"
Brush crackled and a tree limb snapped, the sound of Carmen's labored breathing splintering the tension. The trek took them slightly south for about a mile. Another gunshot sailed through the trees, sending palm leaves raining down on them.
The man was a pro. He was closing in on them with every step.
"In the cave!" Graham hissed.
Carmen dashed inside, but he halted, slid behind a cluster of trees and waited for the shooter to appear. If Graham didn't kill the man, he'd shoot Carmen. And if the shooter had been following Quinn, then he'd report the breach, and Quinn would be a dead man.
He couldn't let that happen.
Seconds later, a man dressed in all black slid into view, his footsteps slowing as he scanned the area. Graham held his breath, not daring to move until the shooter came nearer.
Just as the man ducked to search the cave, Graham landed a karate chop across his neck. His legs buckled, and he dropped to the ground, but he flipped himself over and fired. Graham dodged the bullet, kicked the gun to the ground and landed another blow to his belly. The man dove sideways for the weapon, but Graham grabbed it and fired into the man's chest. Blood spurted from his heart as he fell backward into the sand, the crimson color pooling around him.
* * *
Carmen heard the gunshot and froze. No! The man had killed Graham. It was impossible — her husband couldn't be dead. She loved him; she needed him. She had to explain what had happened….
Fear pounding in her chest, she searched the cave for a weapon, a rock, anything to protect herself. Then footsteps crackled at the entrance. A shadow appeared. Dark hair. A man with his hand pressed to his shoulder.
"Graham?"
He moved slowly toward her. "Yes, it's me."
She lunged toward him and threw her arms around him. "Thank God. I thought you were dead."
She noticed his questioning gaze as he glanced into her eyes. She knew the answers now, remembered the tracking device the scientists had implanted, the photograph.
She dreaded telling him.
Then it didn't matter. Their lips met; he closed his mouth over hers, and their tongues danced in desperation. Fire ignited in her belly, burning through her body, making her ache with want. She remembered the first time they'd come to the cove, the first time they'd made love, the tenderness Graham had shown, the hunger she'd felt at his possession.
Her breath hissed out when he finally pulled
away, but she saw the blood soaking his shirt,
and her stomach lurched. "We have to get you to
the hospital."
"No. No hospitals. They might be watching."
They — the people on Nighthawk Island.
"They obviously didn't trust Quinn, or they wouldn't have put a tail on him." He gritted his teeth, pressing his hand over the wound again to stem the bleeding. "We have to play dead. Disappear for a while. Protect his cover."
She nodded. She understood, knew the stakes. He was right.
"Let's go to my cabin, get some things together. I'll phone my contact at the FBI to take care of the body."
She nodded, and he dragged the man inside the cave.
The walk to his cabin was less than half a mile, but it seemed like an eternity. Graham looked pale as he phoned the agent. When he hung up, he staggered toward the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water and downed it. Sweat beaded on his face and neck as he ripped the blood soaked shirt from his body.
Carmen's pulse clamored at the sight of his naked torso. Broad shoulders. Muscular arms. Dark hair tapering over his chest and trailing downward.
Yet a fresh trail of blood followed.
His gaze met hers. For a fraction of a second, she almost went into his arms. She saw that he wanted it.
But they had to tend to his wounds.
"You have to dig out the bullet," he said in a husky voice.
Carmen shook her head. She couldn't. Didn't have it in her to hurt him.
"You can do it, Carm." He took her hand, pulled her to him, ran hot water into the sink, then wiped away the blood with a cloth.
She inhaled sharply. This man had done so much for her. He loved her, had married her, given himself to her. She couldn't let him down now.
Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she took the cloth and finished the task. He handed her a small, sharp knife and a pair of tweezers, then sat down and braced himself on the hard wood chair.
"It's not very deep," he said. "I can feel it."
She made a whimpering sound in her throat, and her hand shook.
He gripped it and kissed her fingers. "It's all right. You're the bravest woman I know, Carm. You can handle this."
She saw the trust in his eyes and wanted to take care of him. Slowly, she cut the skin, then pressed the outer area to find the bullet. Seconds later she removed it. Graham's teeth were gritted, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. She dressed the wound, then dried the perspiration on his face with a clean cloth. He captured her fingers in his and pulled her down onto his lap.
Their eyes locked, mouths met. Carmen knew she had to tell him what had happened. But she wanted him to hold her, to make love to her. Because once he knew the entire truth, he might feel differently….
Graham lifted his hand to Carmen's cheek, brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear, then lowered his mouth to kiss her. Carmen wanted him desperately now, but she couldn't make love to him without telling him the truth.
A lasting relationship couldn't be built on lies.
If she wanted this marriage to work, and she did want that with every fiber of her being, she had to have his trust.
"Graham, we have to talk." She wet her lips, praying he'd forgive her.
"Carm, I just want to hold you."
"I want that, too," she whispered. "But there are things you should know. I met Quinn before."
A dark expression flared in his eyes. "What?"
"I was worried about you," Carmen blurted. "I wanted to have a baby, and I was going crazy thinking that you might be in danger over this Nighthawk Island investigation."
He gripped her hands between his. "But Carmen, you knew my work was dangerous when you married me."
"I know. And I thought I could live with it." She cleared her throat, had to go on. "But when I thought about having a baby, I was so scared. I didn't want our child to be in danger. So…I went to Nighthawk Island myself. I decided if I could get incriminating pictures to help you close the case, then maybe you'd give up the investigation."
Graham stared up at her, his brows furrowed. "You took pictures at Nighthawk Island?"
"Yes, but I got caught." She hesitated, remembering the terror she'd felt when the guards had locked her up.
"What were the photos of?"
"I don't remember, but they must have been pretty bad." She hesitated. "That's when I met Quinn. He convinced the others not to kill me. But…" This was the part he wasn't going to like. "He implanted this tracking device. He convinced me it was the only way for both of us to stay alive. He made me swear not to tell you. Quinn assured the others that he'd keep tabs on you, and he promised them if you got too close he'd kill you himself."
Graham stood, anger hardening his features.
"We were both protecting you, Graham. That's the only reason I didn't tell you about Quinn and the implant."
The pained look in his eyes tore at her heart. "Go on."
"I couldn't keep it up, though," Carmen said, tears lacing her voice. "That night when we argued, I realized you'd never give up the investigation. I couldn't continue lying to you, so I went to Quinn and begged him to remove the implant. I told him I was going to come clean with you, that I'd tell you about the photos…."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "And he removed the implant?"
A tense silence echoed through the air before she replied. "Not exactly." She clutched his hand. "The other scientists came in and realized what I wanted. They drugged me, then kept me there for weeks."
An anguished look pulled at Graham's face. "God, Carm…"
She pasted on a brave face, trying to banish the memories resurfacing. "They brainwashed me, gave me shock treatments to erase my memory so I'd forget everything I'd seen. Including the photos."
"I can't believe Quinn let them do that to you."
She squeezed his hand, hating the agony in his voice. "Don't blame Quinn. He did it to keep me alive. He even helped me escape." She swallowed. "But they followed, so I hid in a cave and removed the implant myself. That's why I was bleeding when you found me on the beach…." She lifted the gown and pointed to the jagged wound. "See, I did that for us."
* * *
Graham lowered his head, absorbing Carmen's declaration. Carmen had risked her life trying to save him. First by going to Nighthawk Island, then by cutting out that implant. His investigation had almost gotten her killed.
But she had lied to him as well.
And so had his brother.
Quinn had also used Carmen.
Anger knotted his stomach. He'd deal with his brother later.
"I'm so sorry, Graham. I wish I could take it all back, wish I'd told you in the beginning, but I knew they had those photos I'd taken, knew they were watching both of us." Her voice broke. "I couldn't stand the thought of losing you…."
His anger melted at the sight of the huge tears trickling down her cheeks. The iron grip she had on his hand reminded him of the first time they'd made love when his own ironclad control had slipped.
"Please, Graham, I love you with all my heart," Carmen whispered. "Let me show you how much."
He gently smoothed the damp hair from her face, lifted her chin and searched her eyes. "No more lies?"
"No," she choked. "Never."
"I'm so sorry for what they put you through." The terror he'd felt when he'd first learned she was missing assaulted him, and he forgot everything but how much he wanted to hold her. "Promise me you won't ever put yourself in jeopardy like that again."
"I promise." She framed his face with her hands. "But you have to be careful, too."
"I will. I love you, Carm. I want us to be together for a long time, to have that baby."
Dragging her into his arms, he melded his mouth to hers, seeking, tasting, taking. She slid her hands into his hair, moaning as his hands skated down her side to pull at the gown. Seconds later he stripped her naked, then paused to drink in her beauty. She wet her lips and traced a finger over his bare chest, her mouth following, gently trailing a path of fire over his uninjured side and down his belly. He caught her hands as she reached for his zipper, then stood and shucked the jeans.
A heartbeat later, they both lay naked on the bed, the tension between them rocketing as he teased and explored every inch of her. She writhed and moaned, urging him closer as he took one nipple into his mouth and suckled her. She tasted like sweetness and raw desire, the soft throaty sound of her yearning nearly driving him over the edge. He licked and teased his way to her other breast, laving it before he dipped his head and traced a path down to her wound. Then he kissed the puckered flesh tenderly, grimacing at how painful it must have been for her to remove the implant herself.
"Graham, please, I want you."
He rose above her and looked deep into her eyes. The naked longing he saw there sent fire blazing through him. He kneed her legs apart, thrust himself inside her and groaned as she came apart in his arms. Raw desire surged through him as he thrust deeper and harder, bringing their bodies together in a soul wrenching frenzy of sensations and emotions. A groan erupted from deep in his throat as they soared into heaven together.
And as they lay sated in each other's arms, repeating the promises they'd made on their wedding day and planning their future, Graham knew that their love would never die, even if they had to temporarily go into hiding.
But they agreed that Quinn might be in trouble and that Graham couldn't give up his investigation — only this time they would face their future and whatever it might bring together.
The End