her expression. The old Leigh had been so self-assured. Not now though. There was a good reason for that. After all, someone had tried to kill her. That murder attempt no doubt had something to do with what had brought her back to him. Fate working overtime again.
Sometimes fate didn’t know which end was up.
Well, he wasn’t about to buy into anything that dealt with fate.
She continued to stare at him as if sizing him up. “Why didn’t you say something earlier about being my husband?”
“There wasn’t time. You were unconscious when I brought you here.” He knew that wouldn’t be the last of her questions, and he didn’t have to wait long for her to verify that.
Leigh glanced at his hand. “Why isn’t either of us wearing a wedding ring?”
Hell. The woman could certainly open old wounds. Gabe pulled the neck chain out of his T-shirt so she could see the simple gold band that it held. “I’m left-handed, and it catches on the holster. I’m not sure where your ring is. Maybe it slipped off in the lake.”
Or maybe she’d thrown it away. He wouldn’t put it past her. Obviously their marriage vows hadn’t meant much to her. He couldn’t say the same. And that was probably the only explanation he had for why he still wore his wedding ring. One thing was for sure, as soon as he got out of there, he planned to get rid of it. It was something he should have done months ago.
“I have to go,” Jinx announced, the sound of his voice slicing through the heavy silence. “I need to update a few people about what’s happened and try to figure out what we’re going to do. Gabe, you wait here with Leigh.”
Of course. Gabe hadn’t expected it to be any other way.
“I should head out, too,” Agent Walters added after checking her watch. She gave Gabe’s sleeve a tug. “No improvising, all right?”
Gabe didn’t concur either verbally or otherwise. Nor did he disagree with the woman who was coleader of this so-called task force. He just kept his rebellious thoughts to himself. “I’ll walk you two out.” He stood and looked down at Leigh. “Stay put.”
Her unbandaged eyebrow winged up. “Do I have a choice?”
“No,” he clarified over his shoulder.
“I told you to be nice to her,” Jinx said the moment they were outside the door. “I told you to gain her trust.”
Gabe wanted to laugh. “I don’t perform miracles.”
“No, but you will do your job.”
Jinx’s words hit him like a heavyweight’s fist, even though Gabe had tried to brace himself for it. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
“It means you’ll protect her until we can make other arrangements.” There was no hesitation in Jinx’s tone, and that tone drew a clear line between their friendship and his role as Gabe’s boss.
Gabe scrubbed his hand over his face. “It means you want me to be her bodyguard.”
“If necessary,” Teresa piped in. Jinx gave a nod of agreement.
It would be necessary. No doubt about it. That was the only way Gabe could see this playing out. Heck, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of this assignment, he might have even considered it a good idea.
There were just a couple of problems with this particular plan that Jinx and Teresa had come up with for him. It would mean he’d have to spend a lot of time with his wife. A wife he didn’t want. A wife who didn’t want him. But she was also a vulnerable woman with a killer after her.
Hell.
He’d do what the Justice Department wanted him to do, and then he was out of there. Leigh could go back to whatever the hell she’d been doing, and he would get on with his life. All he had to do was keep her alive, catch the bad guy and leave. Especially, leave.
There was no way he’d allow himself to be drawn back into her life. No way.
LEIGH WAITED until Sanchez and the others walked out of the room. “Stay put,” she said, repeating the terse order he’d just given her. “As if I had a choice.”
In fact, her choices were extremely limited. Possibly even nil. She had amnesia, was hurt and didn’t know where she could go to get out of danger. That didn’t mean she trusted the three people who’d just left the room. Or that she believed them. She was almost positive they hadn’t told her the truth.
It’s what you have to tell her, Agent Teresa Walters had said before they knew she was awake. People didn’t usually make remarks like that if they planned to tell the truth.
The whole truth, anyway.
So just what did the others want Sanchez to keep from her? She certainly intended to find out.
Realizing that she had to go to the bathroom, Leigh tossed back the covers and swung her legs off the gurney. She was achy, and her vision was spotty. There was a thick white bandage completely encircling her right ankle, and when she stood, the stitches pinched.
She made use of a pair of green flip-flops that were under the gurney and went in search of the bathroom. It wasn’t hard to find. It was the only door other than the one through which her fearless protectors had exited.
The bathroom was enormous and had two vats filled with dirty linen and hospital-style gowns. The laundry chute was as wide as the bins, indicating the need to send plenty of soiled clothing to the laundry room. A regular clinic probably wouldn’t have such a need.
So just what was this place?
Since she hadn’t heard any traffic or sounds normally associated with a clinic, it was probably some secured area. Perhaps a military installation or maybe a safe house used by the FBI.
Now, just what did the FBI and an ATF agent want with a bookstore employee from Austin? Perhaps the books in the store weren’t the run-of-the-mill variety. If so, she was obviously more than just a concerned citizen.
Leigh put that thought on the back burner when she noticed the mirror above the sink. She approached it cautiously, afraid of what she might see in her own reflection. And equally afraid of what she might not see.
Disappointment soon replaced the cautiousness. She didn’t recognize a thing about herself. The face of a stranger stared back at her.
A troubled stranger.
Almost frantically, she studied her face harder, trying to force herself to see something familiar. She was pale and wondered if it was from the trauma or if that was her usual coloring. Perhaps a combination of both.
The skin surrounding the bandage was bruised—the purplish stain bled down to her cheekbone where someone had obviously hit her pretty hard. A blunt object was her guess.
Her features weren’t prominent. Average. She certainly wasn’t beautiful. Her hair was chin-length and cedar-colored, but since her roots were light brown, she figured that she wasn’t a natural redhead. She checked in the most obvious place to verify her conclusion, stretching out the waist of the scrubs to look
