Mallory stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing another couple to step around her. Lost in thoughts of Alyssa, Gage followed too close and smacked his chin on her head.

  “Ow.” She rubbed the top of her head. He hastily backed up, putting at least a foot of space between them. “This is so frustrating. I’m walking along like I should know where we’re going, but I don’t.”

  “Over there.” Gage nodded toward his truck, parked a few car lengths down the street. “The blue pickup.”

  “What about the rest of them?” She waited for several pedestrians to pass by before gesturing toward the scattered cars parked along the street. “Do you think my car is here somewhere?”

  “You drive a three-year-old red Mustang convertible.” He didn’t see the car, and that was strange. Where would Mallory have left it? Near the spot where the ambulance picked her up?

  “Maybe someone stole it.” Mallory scowled.

  Gage didn’t answer. An old-model beige Cadillac moved slowly down the street. Odd, how it didn’t accelerate. Especially with no stop sign in sight. The clouds shifted from the sun and something glinted brightly from the partially open window of the backseat.

  Long and narrow, he belatedly recognized the barrel of a gun.

  “Get down!” Gage grabbed Mallory and shoved her down behind the parked cars. He dropped on top of her, protecting her body with his. Within seconds a storm of bullets showered the area around them.

  FOUR

  Glass shattered. People screamed. Debris spewed beneath a thunderous barrage of bullets. Squashed between the hard concrete and Gage’s equally unyielding body, she listened to the violent assault, feeling helpless. The episode ended as quickly as it had started. After the roar of an engine and squealing tires echoed off the buildings, a stunned silence cloaked them.

  “Are you okay?” Gage ran his hands urgently over her arms. “Say something, Mallory! Were you hit?”

  “No. I’m okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Yes, her body was bruised, but she was unharmed, thanks to Gage’s quick reflexes. His unselfishness humbled her. He’d protected her with his life. Had anyone ever done that for her before? She had no way of knowing, but she somehow doubted it. She tried to raise her head to thank him.

  “Stay down,” Gage barked. Clearly he wasn’t lulled into complacency because the hail of gunfire had ceased.

  While she deeply appreciated his willingness to sacrifice himself, she couldn’t breathe. Mallory tried to edge out from beneath Gage’s suffocating weight. He must have figured out what was wrong, because he suddenly shifted to the right. She gulped in a huge breath of air, fighting a wave of dizziness.

  Half of his body still shielded hers. Even in the desperate seriousness of the moment, she couldn’t ignore her hyperawareness to his presence. Being held protectively by Gage was exciting yet familiar. Mallory kept her head low as she turned to see him, his face mere inches from hers. His eyes weren’t the color of cinnamon anymore, but an intense chestnut-brown. His smooth jaw was clenched with anger, but his gaze was alert. For a guy, his sooty eyelashes were ridiculously long. His mouth was so close.

  She had the insane urge to kiss him.

  Their gazes locked, held. Mallory sucked in a quick breath. This was it. His eyes held the same awareness she was certain was in hers. Her heart quickened. Warm breath fanned her face. She stretched toward him—then froze when the distinct wail of police sirens filled the air.

  Run! Run! Jerking her head toward the ominous sound, she sought a place to hide. Beneath one of the cars parked on the street? No. Too much glass carpeted the area between them. Around the building? Yes. There was time. They could make it. Wriggling against the weight of Gage’s muscular limbs, she struggled to get free. He tightened his hold. She jammed her elbow in his ribs.

  He grunted, his breath whooshing past her ear. “What’s wrong with you? What are you doing?”

  “Hurry!” she insisted. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Are you nuts? We can’t leave. We’re staying right here until the police arrive.”

  Before she could explain her unknown fears there were at least six or seven cops, covered from head to toe in full protective gear, surrounding them. Bile rose in her throat and she shrank against Gage’s warmth, only this time he was the one who jerked away from the other’s touch. The cops must have noticed their lack of weapons since they immediately fanned out, securing the area.

  A tall officer with dark hair stayed behind. “I’m Officer Lowell. Are you okay? Anyone hurt?”

  “We’re fine.” Gage swiftly rose to his feet. He hesitated for the barest fraction of a second before offering a hand to help her stand. “It’s only a scratch.”

  A scratch? He was bleeding. Concern for Gage pushed past her irrational fear. She hastily stood, her gaze focusing on the ominous bloodstain oozing through his white shirt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” He avoided eye contact, rejecting her concern.

  Mallory ignored him and took his arm. A thin rivulet of blood dripped from his elbow. The image of a blood-stained wall flashed in her mind, but she swallowed hard and shook off the faint memory. “This isn’t fine. It’s a bullet wound.” She pushed the sleeve of his shirt out of the way to better see the injury.

  “I have a first-aid kit.” Another officer stepped forward carrying a square box. “And there’s an ambulance on the way.”

  Mallory plucked white squares of gauze from the first-aid kid. Gage’s muscular arm was tense beneath her fingertips. His skin radiated heat. “Thankfully the bullet only grazed you. God was definitely watching over us.”

  “God?” Gage echoed in surprise.

  “Don’t you believe in God?” she asked. He stared at her for a long moment before he gave a curt nod. Satisfied, she turned back to his wound, covering the bloody gash with gauze and then glancing up at the officer with the first-aid kit. “Do you have an elastic bandage?”

  “Sure.” The cop handed her the roll.

  “Thanks.” She wrapped the elastic bandage around Gage’s arm, anchoring the gauze in place. “This will work until the ambulance gets here. You should go to the hospital, although I don’t think the wound will need stitches.”

  Gage frowned at her. “How would you know?”

  Mallory was taken aback at his tone. How did she know? A memory? No, the black mist still dipped and swirled. Then she frowned. Basic common sense, that’s how. “The gash isn’t deep.”

  With a scowl he pulled away. “I’m fine, no reason to go to the hospital.” Turning away, he gave his attention to the police officers.

  His dismissal hurt. Far more than it should have. Tears threatened, but she refused to succumb, blaming them on delayed shock. What was wrong with her? Gage was off-limits. He cared about her sister. Had she imagined that moment when it seemed he might kiss her? Probably.

  She’d been stressed, traumatized by the gunfire, and had imagined the brief, emotional connection. And really, why did she care? She barely knew her own name, much less anything about Gage. He might have strong shoulders that came in handy when he was protecting her, but he belonged to Alyssa. Right now she needed to concentrate on getting her memory back.

  Every muscle in her body tensed when she noticed a tall, burly police officer climb from his squad car. Unlike the others, he was dressed in uniform minus the protective gear, as if he’d heard about the situation on the radio and had come to investigate. In the middle of the sidewalk, he halted midstride and stared at her.

  Mallory’s stomach dropped to her knees. She sucked in a raw breath. In a flash she remembered the same ruddy-faced officer glaring at her impatiently. Then the brief memory vanished like a puff of smoke. The fog rolled in. She wanted to scream in frustration.

  A long billy club swayed from his waist as he approached. On the other hip, he wore a gun. His hand hovered near the weapon, his fingers caressing the metal as if he were a gunslinger ready to draw. Forcing herself to breathe, she eased closer to Gage. Deep in conversation with Officer Lowell, Gage didn’t notice how the ruddy-faced cop trained his gaze on her as he approached. When he stopped in front of her, fear coated her mouth like dust.

  “What’s your name?” he demanded.

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t. She wanted to run. To hide. But she was safe next to Gage, right? A spurt of anger at his blatant attempt to intimidate her caused her to jut her chin. “Mallory Roth. Why? What’s yours?”

  The grooves in his flushed face deepened. “Officer Aaron Crane. Do you have ID?”

  Mallory nodded, tempted to ask for his as she reached for her purse. She found her driver’s license and handed it to him.

  Gage finished his conversation, and she grasped his arm to get his attention. He subtly pulled away, putting a good foot of distance between them, but he turned to face Crane. “Is there a problem, officer?”

  “No. No problem.” Crane stared at her license for a long moment before handing it back to her. He glanced at Gage. “I’ll need to see your identification, as well.”

  Gage jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “These guys have the information. I already gave them my statement.”

  “Oh, okay. Good.” Officer Crane nodded abruptly then turned and walked away. Mallory heard him ask his fellow officers, “What happened here?”

  Ignoring Gage’s questioning look, she eavesdropped on the exchange between the cops, unable to strip her gaze from the stocky policeman. She didn’t like him. More than that, she feared him. Why? Although irrational, she feared Officer Crane would arrest her if given the chance.

  The cops’ discussion turned toward gang violence. One witness reported seeing a flash of green from the Caddy’s window, a color known to be favored by the Skidds gang. Their conclusion sounded logical, but she couldn’t shake her reaction to Officer Crane. After a long hour, they were allowed to leave. Amazingly, Gage’s truck parked a few cars down the street hadn’t been damaged in the shootout. She caught a glimpse of Officer Crane staring after them as they drove off.

  Her hands began to shake. She clasped them together in an effort to make them stop. Silently, she swiveled in her seat to stare at the receding figure of Officer Crane.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Gage’s concern was a life preserver she grabbed with both hands. Just knowing she wasn’t alone was a huge relief. She forced a smile.

  “I’m not the one who was shot,” she pointed out, striving for a light tone. She settled in her seat, hanging on to the sense of normalcy. She desperately needed to keep her mind off creepy Officer Crane.

  “I wasn’t shot. I was nicked.” Gage shook his head. “Never mind. We need to make a quick stop before we check out those addresses.”

  For a moment she was confused. What addresses? Then she remembered. Alyssa’s friends. Of course. They were on a mission to find Alyssa.

  “Where?” She didn’t really care where they went, as long as it was far away from the scene outside her apartment.

  “My place. I have a few calls to make. I also need the charger for my cell phone.”

  “What kind of calls?”

  Gage shrugged but didn’t answer. She tried to think of something to talk about. Anything to keep from focusing on the horror of someone trying to kill them. Was this related to Alyssa? Had someone mistaken her for Alyssa? By the time Gage pulled in front of a quaint two-story white house, her body was shaking in earnest. She locked her hands beneath opposite elbows to maintain the illusion of control and followed Gage inside.

  An overwhelming sense of coming home fused her feet to the floor. Gage ignored her as he headed for the phone. Half-dazed, Mallory stood in the center of the kitchen. Cheerful green-and-white-checkered curtains fluttered over the windows. With an effort, she forced herself to walk through the kitchen, down the hallway and into the bathroom.

  Closing the door behind her, she sank onto the commode and buried her face in her hands.

  She’d lost her mind. That was the only explanation. It was impossible to feel more comfortable at Gage’s house than her own condo. She couldn’t have spent much time here. She lived in the fancy downtown condo. He loved Alyssa.

  She had to stop thinking about Gage. There were bigger problems to consider. Such as who was the older man in the picture? Why did the sight of Officer Crane fill her with such fear and dread? Did she really remember him? Or was it only someone who looked similar to him? The danger had passed. She and Gage were safe now.

  Weren’t they?

  Maybe. If the shooting really was gang related. Had they really been in the wrong place at the wrong time? And if so, why had Officer Crane looked at her so strangely?

  The Jefferson project. Mallory shivered. Maybe Alyssa was right. Maybe everything really was related to the Jefferson project.

  Dear Lord, help me. Keep us safe. Mallory took several slow, deep breaths. In, count to ten, then out and count to ten. Now start over again. Breathe in…

  Wait a minute. Where had she learned that? The dark haze still hovered in her mind, but she could sense she was getting close to remembering. As she’d remembered Crane. He wasn’t just some look-alike. Closing her eyes, she could clearly bring the memory back. His irritated features as he glared down at her. She remembered him.

  “Mallory?” Gage tapped on the door. “Are you okay?”

  The hovering image vanished. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She rubbed her aching temples and splashed water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

  She needed to be strong. Between them, she and Gage would figure out what was going on. This was not the time to fall apart. Or become preoccupied with her sister’s boyfriend. Alyssa was in danger, either from the Jefferson project or the gang members themselves. Amnesia or not, Alyssa was counting on her.

  And she was determined to be the kind of sister her twin deserved.

  * * *

  “Dan, I need your help.” Gage held the phone propped between his chin and his shoulder. His stomach rumbled so loudly, he suspected his chief project manager could hear it. “What do you know about Hugh Jefferson?”

  “Aside from the fact we’re building his condos? Not much,” Dan admitted. “He’s a businessman from Chicago, dabbles in various investments but prefers real estate. He’s a mover and a shaker. Likes the finer things in life.”

  “Yeah, but why is he suddenly buying property in Milwaukee? There must be dozens of places to expand in Chicago. Why is he coming up here?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Is there a problem?”

  Gage didn’t want to go into too much detail over the phone. “I have some serious reservations about the project, that’s all.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can find out more about him?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah, that would be good.” The police wanted them to believe the attack outside Mallory’s apartment building was random. Gang activity was heating up, they’d claimed. The chief of police and the mayor had teamed up to form a special task force aimed at bringing gang activity under control. Today’s shooting was a perfect example of why the task force was so important.

  But Gage didn’t buy it. He couldn’t ignore the string of coincidences. First Ray Schaefer died of stab wounds. Now this attack outside Mallory’s apartment. Alyssa seemingly missing.

  He should have listened to Alyssa from the start, the night she’d called him from the E.D. He’d failed her. Again. The first time when he’d let her walk away, and the second when he hadn’t believed her. Pushing back a wave of helpless regret, he struggled to think. Okay, say the Jefferson project was dangerous. Why? Who was involved? At what level?

  “…meet me later?”

  Gage belatedly realized Dan was waiting for a response. “Huh? Yeah, I know it’s Saturday, but let’s meet later. In the downtown office at six.”

  “Okay. I did find out something strange the other day, but let me look into things a bit and I’ll fill you in later.”

  He was tempted to push Dan for more information, but just then Mallory entered the kitchen. “Fine. I’ll see you later, Dan.” Gage hung up the phone and slowly turned to face her.

  “I remembered something.”

  Pale yet determined, Mallory stood in the center of his kitchen. Alyssa’s kitchen. The one she’d taken such pleasure in helping him decorate. The green-and-white curtains had been her choice.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she said again, impatiently. “I remembered something.”

  He blinked and straightened. “What did you remember?”

  “The cop.”

  “Which cop?” As soon as he asked, he knew. The guy who’d approached and asked for her ID. He’d thought her reaction was strange at the time. Her fear of the officer had been palpable.

  “Officer Aaron Crane.”

  “What about him? What exactly did you remember?” Gage held his breath, hoping and praying she would remember.

  “Just his face, really. But I know I’ve seen him someplace before. I tapped his arm to get his attention and he glanced down at me with angry annoyance. That’s all I remember.”

  She was right, it wasn’t much. “Anything else? Where were you? Why were you talking to a cop? Were you with your twin? Maybe filling out a police report or something like that?”

  Her brows pulled together in a deep frown. She rubbed the ache in her left temple then slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

  Her apology sounded so much like Alyssa. The way she’d mentioned how God had watched over them was also something Alyssa would say.

  Not Mallory.

 

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