his attacker didn’t stay down. He leaped to his feet, ready to attack again.
Marcus faced him, unable to shake the familiar look of him. He couldn’t see his face because of the sand scarf and goggles, but he knew the look, the stance, even the weapon of choice—a .300 Win Mag sniper rifle. Powerful and precise enough to shoot across a long distance. In other words, the perfect sniper’s rifle.
The masked figure lunged and Marcus engaged him, surprised to find he matched him move for move. He acted on instinct, the efforts coming naturally to him. He didn’t even have to think which move to make because his muscles seemed to know before his mind did. Finally, the assailant drop-kicked him and Marcus hit the ground and rolled. When he turned over to get to his feet, his attacker lowered his gun and held it to his head.
“You should have stayed dead, Marcus,” the clad figure stated.
But before he could shoot, another gun fired, this time from behind him. The bullet didn’t hit him but he jerked and spun around to face the new shooter from his spot on the ground.
Marcus spotted striking blue eyes belonging to none other than Bethany, the CIA agent, her weapon raised and firing. Man, she was gorgeous. The attacker hopped over the side of the building and vanished. She raced to the edge and looked over as Marcus crawled to his feet.
She turned back to him, irritation glowering on her face. “He’s gone.”
“Apparently so.” Marcus walked to the perch where the sniper had left his weapon and gear. He glanced through the scope. The diner had indeed been the target. But why and who had targeted them?
He heard the click of a gun safety releasing behind him. “Get away from that.”
He glanced back and saw Bethany with her gun now aimed at him.
“I’m just checking it out.”
“I said move away from it,” she insisted, so he did. If she wanted to play things her way then he would let her for now.
Lowering her weapon, she picked up the sniper rifle and glanced through the scope.
“The diner was the target. Or rather, someone inside the diner.” She picked up the gear bag and dug through it. “There’s no identification.”
“He wouldn’t have any,” Marcus offered and she glanced up at him with those probing eyes. “Despite what people commonly believe, snipers don’t work alone. They need someone to watch the wind and environment as well as, in this case, people coming to intercept them. In this case, if he hadn’t been working alone, he never would have left his stuff behind. We’re looking for a single sniper.”
“I’m familiar with sniper protocols,” she snapped, a comment that made him wonder why he was familiar with them. Had he been a sniper?
The person to ask was standing in front of him and there was no time like the present. After all, he’d made this journey to find answers.
“Back at the diner, you told Marie you knew me. Was that true? Do you know who I am?”
She looked up at him, surprise shining in her eyes. He held his breath. This was the moment he’d waited for, prayed for, even trekked across the Middle East for.
She straightened and raised her gun at him again, this time startling him enough to cause him to take several steps back.
“I do know you. You’re Marcus Allen. And you’re under arrest for treason and desertion.”
* * *
Bethany saw surprise color his face and felt more vindicated than she had since she’d first realized he hadn’t died that night in Afghanistan.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” he stated. “You’re seriously arresting me?”
Technically, she didn’t have the authority to arrest him, but she could and would detain him until he could be placed in custody. And, officially, she knew there were no active arrest warrants for Marcus Allen because as far as the US government was concerned, he’d died in Afghanistan two years ago.
“I know exactly who you are. I’ve been tracking you for the past two years.” She took out her CIA credentials and flashed them once again. “You’re on the government’s radar.” Maybe she was overstepping her bounds here. Technically, he was only on her radar, but he didn’t need to know that.
He looked downtrodden. “I’m a criminal? I thought when you told Marie you knew me, that you actually knew me.” He glanced at her derisively. “You’re nothing but an agent looking for her next prey.”
She sighed and lowered the gun. “You’re being a little melodramatic, aren’t you, Marcus? Of course I know you.” He’d made certain he’d be remembered when he’d made her fall in love with him then run out on her and everyone else.
The bitterness of realizing she’d been duped still stung Bethany because she had fallen for Marcus. She’d fallen hard for the handsome soldier with the broad smile and easygoing manner. The few weeks they’d spent together before the ambush had been the best of her life and she’d been just as devastated when she’d thought he’d died only to discover she’d been used as a means to an end.
Her face radiated heat at the reminder of the fool she’d been for him. She’d cried for this man when she’d thought he died! Then to discover he’d not only survived but had had a hand in the ambush had nearly done her in. Only her anger and quest for revenge had kept her going. Now he was standing in front of her and, more than wanting to know why he’d betrayed his country, she wanted to demand to know why he’d betrayed her. But she couldn’t focus on that now. That wasn’t the important part of why she’d tracked him down. Betraying his country was by far the more critical issue.
“What have I done that the CIA is hunting me?”
“You’re a US soldier who went missing and was presumed killed in action. I have a duty to bring you in through the proper channels. Everyone is going to want to talk to you, to hear your story.”
“But I don’t know my story.” He grunted and spun away from her, his shoulders tense. “How can I tell anyone what happened when I don’t know myself what went down?” He turned back, looked at her and shook his head. “But you don’t believe me, do you?”
“That you have amnesia?” she scoffed. “Come on, Marcus, drop the act. We both know you’ve been in hiding for nearly two years.”
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“Whatever it was, I’m taking you in. The only question is how we’re going to do this.”
He saw her clutch the gun then hung his head and sighed. “You won’t need that.” He held out the rifle in his hand to her, butt first. “I’m not a fugitive and I’m certainly not dangerous.”
“But you are under arrest. Let’s go. You’ll pay for the crimes you’ve committed against your country.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I—I don’t even know—”
His lack of recognition hurt more than she cared to admit, but she didn’t let it show. “What? You don’t recognize
