He’d had the choice of being taken off this case. When Colette had disappeared, his boss had offered him an out, knowing that the entire situation had somehow gone beyond Hank’s control.
However Hank had opted to stay on, needing not only to prove to his boss, but to himself that he was still the man for the job, still able to hold on to his objectivity. At the moment objectivity wasn’t a problem. His hormones were.
Something about Colette Connor stirred him as no other woman had for a very long time. Lust. Pure and simple lust. He’d forgotten what it felt like, how difficult it was to fight.
“Hank?”
He tensed as her voice drifted across the small space that separated them. “What?”
“Before I ran away…before I got amnesia and we were stuck together, did we like each other? I mean, were we friends?”
“Friends?” He rolled the word around in his head. When had he ever had friends? Not for years. Not since he’d lost his dreams. Not since he became a man with nothing more to lose. “We got along all right. I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends.”
He heard the rustle of her covers as she turned over. “You said we were holed up in a hotel room. What did we do all day?”
“We watched television. We played cards. We paced and watched the clock.”
She sighed. “I wish I could remember. I think everything would be much easier if I could just remember it all.”
“Go to sleep, Colette. We’ve got a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.” He didn’t want to hear her voice whispering in the dark. It was too intimate, evoked too many memories.
“Good night, Hank.”
“’Night.”
The room fell silent, the only sounds the whisper of their breathing. Hank stared up at the ceiling, deep weariness sweeping through him. She made him tired. Fighting his feelings of lust, fearing all the things she might remember at any time, anticipating her trying to run again…all of it combined to exhaust him.
Sixteen more days. Then he would be forever rid of her. He’d forget the taste of her lips, the scent that so stirred him. He’d forget the sound of her laughter, the pain of her tears. He’d give her up to the court, then put her out of his life as effectively as he’d done with other witnesses a dozen times before.
“Hank?”
“What?” he snapped, wishing she’d shut up, go to sleep, and stop tossing and turning into his thoughts.
“Promise me everything is going to be all right.”
Hank closed his eyes, hardening his heart against the plea in her words. “I never make promises.”
There was a moment of silence. “Never?”
“Never,” he answered firmly. “Now for heaven’s sake, get some sleep,” he finished, his tone harsh.
He knew the moment she fell asleep, heard the rhythm of her breathing change, deepen and slow. Slowly Hank began to relax. For the first time in months, things were back on track. He had Colette where she was supposed to be and he’d see his job through to the end.
Although he knew Colette needed to remember, to do what the prosecution wanted her to do, for the moment he was grateful she remembered nothing. As long as she didn’t remember why she’d run before, it made his job easier.
She’d been right about one thing. In the time he’d known her, he’d never heard her break a promise. She didn’t break them…and he didn’t make them. And that’s exactly why she’d run.
* * *
“WHAT THE HELLdo you mean, you lost them?”
The cowboy winced beneath Collier’s rage. “At least I got his license number. Trust me, I’ll find them.”
“Trust you?” Collier snorted derisively. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess. You knew better than to come to the office in the first place. No. I’m through leaving this up to you. I’m sending out some of my boys. They’ll get the job done.”
“I’m guessing they’re headed your way. They’ll want to get someplace safe in San Bernardino as soon as possible to wait for the trial.”
“I’ll find them. I’ll call in every damned marker owed to me.” Collier heaved a sigh of aggravation. “Give me the damned license number. We’ll find her. I don’t care if we have to blow up all of Wyoming and half of California. I want that woman dead within the week.”
“Understood.” The cowboy hung up the phone, narrowing his eyes against the neon lights on the convenience store where he’d stopped to use the phone. Where before this had simply been just another job, it was now becoming personal. Colette Connor was making him look like a fool.
He shook out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit one, his mind whirling. Not only did he intend to be the one to kill Colette Connor, but he would also see to it that Hank Cooper died with her. In fact, if done right, it would tie up loose ends and nobody would be looking for a murderer.
A smile curved his lips as he imagined the newspaper headlines: Tragic Murder/Suicide For Key Witness And Protecting Agent. Oh, yes. Collier would be proud of him. Hell, he’d probably pay a bonus if the murders could be done so no finger could ever point to him.
He took a drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt away. Thoughtfully he scratched his cheek. He had work to do. He intended to be the one to find Colette and Hank. He wanted to be the one to kill them. In fact, although he wasn’t about to tell Collier, he’d be willing to do this one for free.
