Delta Force Die Hard. Carol Ericson

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      She rolled over onto her stomach and pounded the pillow with her fist. No way. She had a hard time believing Major Denver turned, but apparently Asher himself had confirmed it. He’d been the lone survivor of the disastrous mission that had resulted in the death of an army ranger, the defection of Denver and Asher’s fall and subsequent amnesia.

      If Asher were in trouble with the army, wouldn’t they just tell her? That would be enough to keep her away. Her inside army source, Dad’s friend and now Mom’s confidant Terrence Elder, hadn’t mentioned anything about an arrest or court-martial. Terrence had pulled in a few favors to find out where Asher had been sent after Germany. That was how Paige had tracked Asher down to the convalescent facility, Hidden Hills, here in Vermont.

      Asher’s own teammates had been no help at all. If they’d returned her calls, and only a few did, they denied any knowledge of Asher’s whereabouts and weren’t too concerned about finding him. They’d viewed his accusations against Major Denver as the supreme betrayal of the man and the team.

      But Asher would always do the right thing. With his father in federal prison for bank robbery, Asher followed the straight and narrow path. If he saw any wrongdoing, he’d report it—no matter who it was or how much it pained him to do so. She had firsthand knowledge of that.

      If Asher said Major Denver killed that army ranger, pushed Asher off a cliff and took off, that was what happened.

      But Asher had amnesia. How did he remember all that and not remember his fiancée? And if he didn’t remember her, he didn’t remember...

      Her cell phone rang on the nightstand and she swept it off and answered. “Hi, Mom. Everything okay?”

      “We’re fine. Everything okay there? Did you see him?”

      “Sort of. It’s a long story.” She tapped her phone’s display. “You’re not using FaceTime. Is Ivy still awake? It’s three hours earlier there.”

      “I’m sorry, honey. Ivy went down for a nap right after dinner. Do you want me to do the face thing when she wakes up?”

      “That’s all right, Mom. I’m exhausted.”

      “I-is Asher okay? Do you think you can help him?”

      Paige scooped in a big breath. “I do. I think I can help him.”

      “All by yourself? Maybe you should come home, Paige. You don’t need this stress. Let the army handle it.”

      “I can handle the stress, Mom. Don’t worry about me. It’s Asher who needs help this time, and I’m not going to abandon him.”

      Her mother clicked her tongue. “Don’t push yourself. You don’t do well under pressure.”

      After that comment, Paige ended her call with Mom sooner rather than later and stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

      She’d better start doing well under pressure, because the only way to help Asher was to get him out of that hellhole and restore his memory of her...and their daughter.

      * * *

      THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast, Paige shook out a clean pair of jeans. She’d wear the same hooded jacket as yesterday, since it seemed to have kept her hidden in the forest. Those two goons had no idea she was hiding in plain sight.

      Asher had been on that porch by himself after lunch, so she’d aim for the same time again. Would he follow her signal? Would he rat her out—just like he’d ratted out Denver?

      At least nobody had come into the small town of Mooseville looking for her. If she could get back to that wooded area again, she’d be safe. She just needed Asher to trust her.

      Could he trust a...stranger? She clutched the jeans to her chest and bowed her head. She and Asher could never be strangers. Her love for him soaked every pore in her body.

      When he found out she was pregnant, he’d swept her up in his arms and swung her around and around, even though the pregnancy had been a surprise and she wasn’t quite...ready. He’d wanted nothing more than a family of his own...and now he couldn’t even remember he had one.

      She wiped the back of her hand across her tingling nose. She had no time for tears and no time for Mom’s doubts. She had to rescue her man, if he’d let her.

      After lunch, Paige parked her rental car in a turnoff on the main road, tucking it away and out of sight. As she hiked up the road to the access trail, she tilted back her head and studied the sky. The sun still shone through the clouds, enough for her to catch its beams with her mirror and signal Asher, as she’d done yesterday.

      She ducked onto the access road and pumped her legs up the hill as the terrain grew more challenging. A steep angle and a few bushes didn’t faze her. She’d hike through fire and brimstone to get to Asher.

      The trees became denser, but Paige had marked her way the day before and those bits of blue yarn guided her back toward the compound perched on the hill.

      She located her lookout tree and jumped to catch the lowest branch. She swung herself up and clambered from branch to branch like a clumsy monkey to reach her perch.

      She shrugged off her pack and pulled out the binoculars. She scanned the desolate lawn. Maybe the action perked up in the warmer weather months...or maybe this retreat kept its patients drugged up and chained in the basement. Clenching her teeth, she shivered.

      Fifteen minutes later Asher rewarded her patience by appearing on the porch, taking the same chair as yesterday. She focused the lenses on him, and her heart filled with joy. He looked healthy, if...lackadaisical.

      As she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, the door behind Asher opened and a nurse stepped onto the porch.

      “Damn.” Paige’s whisper stirred the leaves on the branch hanging next to her face.

      Were they watching him now? They must’ve been watching him yesterday to notice he’d left the porch and loped across the grass.

      Her jaw ached with tension and disappointment. She might just have to go through the front door and demand to see him.

      She refocused on Asher and the nurse and pressed her lips into a thin line. Was personal massage part of Asher’s recovery?

      The nurse, standing behind him, had her hands on his shoulders, massaging and rubbing him. Each time she reached forward, her hands slid beneath his jacket and moved against his chest.

      Either Asher liked it or he was too zoned out to care. Each time the nurse’s hands slid farther and farther down his chest, working toward the inevitable happy ending.

      Asher turned his head and said something, and she stopped. Had he gotten the feeling his fiancée was watching?

      When the nurse retreated inside, Paige grabbed the mirror and caught the weak sun. She tilted it back and forth, and Asher raised his head.

      He’d seen it.

      Paige’s soaring spirits crashed a minute later when Nurse Grabby-Hands returned to the scene, this time pushing a wheelchair ahead of her.

      Paige СКАЧАТЬ