Out of Uniform (Wingmen Warriors 14)

“That’s just it. I don’t know.” She braced her back against the chair. “The first thing I remember is waking up here this morning.”

Jacob’s whole body straightened into a steely line of tension. Muscles rippled beneath his Air Force T-shirt.

Her hands clenched so tightly the aluminum can dented. The ping reverberated in the silence. If he didn’t talk soon, she would snap. “Well?”

“That son of a bitch.”

What? “Who?”

“Your ‘Mr. Smith.’” Jacob stomped across the yellowed linoleum for two lengthy paces before kneeling at her feet. “We have to get you to a doctor, make sure you aren’t having some adverse reaction to the drugs. You were sick earlier, and you’re pale. You may not be over the worst.” He scrubbed a restless hand over his military-short hair. “Damn it, I wonder if he used Rohypnol or GHB.”

His words offered a flicker of hope. Could that be it? “Amnesia drugs?”

“Yeah, episodic amnesia meds. Creep in a bar drops one in a woman’s drink. She blacks out for a while, then forgets what happened to her the night before.”

Disappointment tasted more bitter than bile. “Only one night?”

“Roughly. That happened to the girlfriend of someone in my squadron about a year ago. The experience really put her through hell.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll get somebody in here to handle the desk while—”

“Jacob.”

“—I’m gone. I’ll throw the truck in four-wheel drive, and we’ll—”

“Stop!”

“What?” He pressed a broad palm to her forehead. “Are you ill?”

The comfort of his touch left her on shaky ground, but she couldn’t afford to weaken now. “I haven’t just forgotten a few hours. I can’t remember anything.”

Dee lifted a trembling hand from her can and nudged the W-2 form toward him with one finger. “I can’t fill this out because I don’t know my real name or address. I can’t tell you anything about myself.”

His gaze shifted from compassionate to suspicious. “Nothing?”

“I’m afraid not.”

His eyes went from suspicious to piercing blue. Then he laughed.

“Did you hear me?”

Another laugh rolled free, a dark rumbly sound like an incoming storm. “Oh, yeah, I heard you.” He shook his head. “I’m laughing at myself, not you.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better right now.”

Jacob pulled the bubbling stew from the burner and pitched the pot holder into the sink. “You’re saying you have amnesia.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“That’s a good one.” He lounged against the counter. “You’ve got a bump on your head. Right?”

She reached to feel around under her loose hair and yeah, the tender spot was still there. A lump, too? Or just a lumpy skull? Tough to tell, but maybe that was the cause. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Of course.” He nodded, obviously doubtful. “I would have chosen the alien abduction route. Has more flair. Maybe even toss in an Elvis sighting for fun.”

Her hand drifted to her stomach, just over her scar and a churning well of panic. She’d thought through a thousand scenarios where someone might take advantage of her vulnerability, but she’d never considered she wouldn’t be trusted. “I’m sorry I don’t have a huge gash on my head to offer as proof. But you have to believe me.”

She stuffed down a sense of steely pride and anger she could ill afford right now.

His chest rose with each steady breath. “You know, Dee Smith, there’s one thing that absolutely pushes my buttons, and that’s someone who lies to me.”