“Joe?”

  “The FBI is here.” His heart was pounding fiercely, and his hands were shaking. These weren’t just some hoodlums. How the hell were they supposed to face the FBI?

  “What?”

  “They’re saying you’re a gun for hire. That you worked for a drug cartel and now you’re on the run because you stole something from them.” So much of what the agents said made sense, and what reason did they have to lie? And yet….

  Tom shook his head. “That can’t be true.” He looked uncertain, and Joe hated that he felt a little scared. If Tom wasn’t who they said he was, he would have been sure, wouldn’t he? He would have denied it, felt it deep in his gut. Joe was terrified by the fear in Tom’s eyes.

  “Tom?”

  “I…. No, it can’t be.” Tom gently cupped Joe’s face. How could those be the eyes of a cold-blooded killer? “I’m not a murderer. I know it’s my word against theirs, but you have to believe me. Joe, you know me.” He placed Joe’s hand against his chest over his heart. “In here. You know I’m not a killer.”

  Joe leaned in and kissed Tom. It was quick but deep and filled with as much passion as Joe possessed. “I’m sorry, Tom.” He pulled Tom against him and whispered in his ear, “The garden. Run.”

  Tom looked up past Joe to the kitchen, his eyes going wide. Joe spun around and bolted, slamming through the swinging kitchen doors and into the two agents. The three of them went tumbling through, landing on the floor in the café. Joe scrambled to his feet, stunned to find Tom still standing in the kitchen.

  “Run!”

  Tom snapped out of it and took off toward the side exit. Joe ran out the front door of the shop, crying out when several men grabbed Tom the moment he landed on the other side of the fence. No! They’d been waiting for him.

  Joe made to go after Tom, to do something to help him, but he was apprehended by Agent Baker. “Please don’t hurt him! I know you think he’s a killer, but he’s not,” Joe begged the agent holding him, his heart splintering as Tom struggled against his captors.

  “Joe!” Tom slammed his shoulder into one of the men holding him and broke into a run, but he didn’t get very far before he was tackled to the ground. He hit the cement with a thud, and Joe flinched at the obvious pain it caused him. Despite the men struggling to detain him, Tom was more concerned about Joe than his own dire predicament.

  “Let go of him, you son of a bitch!” Joe said.

  They dragged Tom to his feet, and he fought fiercely as he tried to reach for Joe. Their fingers brushed against each other’s, and Joe’s eyes filled with tears.

  “You’ve got the wrong man! He’s not a killer. I know he isn’t!”

  “Joe, you can’t—” A blow to his stomach cut Tom off, and he doubled over with a growl. Oh God, what were they going to do to him?

  Agent Baker shook his head. “You’re a good man, Mr. Applin. He’s trying to get your sympathy. That’s what he does. Prey on the kindhearted.”

  “He’s not a killer!” Joe spat out. “You don’t know him like I do! Please, can we talk about this?” His heart was torn to shreds as Tom struggled against the agents. Every time Tom screamed his name, another piece of Joe’s heart was ripped from his chest and his eyes burned from the tears he held back. Did they have to be so rough?

  “Agent Baker, please.” Joe grabbed the man’s wrist when Tom stopped fighting, his eyes wide as he looked from Joe to Agent Baker. Something in Tom’s face, in his eyes, the way he stared at the other man made Joe still. Then he heard it.

  “Joe, that’s not Agent Baker! He’s—” Tom’s words died on his lips as the group of agents threw a black bag over his head and hauled him off his feet, rushing him to the backseat of a black Suburban that pulled up to the curb.

  They were taking him away. What if Joe never saw him again? It couldn’t end this way. They were wrong. Tom wasn’t a killer.

  The cocking of a gun snapped Joe out of his trance, and someone kicked the back of his legs, forcing him onto his knees. What the hell was going on? The world seemed to slow as Agent Baker aimed a gun at him. A shot rang out and Joe flinched. Tom screamed his name, and a car door slammed. Tires skidded and more tires screeched to a halt. Joe’s pulse was racing. Had he been shot? He looked down at himself, feeling his chest. He was so confused.

  “I’m okay,” Joe said, his voice almost a whisper. He looked down at the man writhing in pain on the sidewalk, a puddle of blood forming under him.

  Half a dozen men in suits came running, and two of them took away the man on the ground. A tall fair-haired man flashed a badge at Joe.

  “I’m Agent Geoffrey, FBI. Mr. Applin, I need you to come with me. We’ll talk on pursuit.”

  “Pursuit?” Joe grew more confused by the moment. Another agent handed a wallet to Agent Geoffrey, who flipped it open and nodded. “I don’t understand. Why was Agent Baker going to shoot me? And why did you shoot him? Isn’t he one of yours?”

  “I’ll explain in the car. Trust me.”

  Joe pushed himself to his feet. “To be honest, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  Agent Geoffrey met his gaze as he helped him up. “Mr. Applin, if you want to save your friend, you’ll come with me right now.”

  What choice did he have? Joe quickly climbed into the back of a large black Suburban. The tires screeched as they took off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Joe swiftly buckled up. At this time of night there wasn’t as much traffic, but it was still busy. Joe held on to the door for dear life as the line of black vehicles sped north through the city, running red lights and avoiding other cars, along with pedestrians. He sure hoped they didn’t get killed on the way to save Tom. Speaking of they….

  “All right, Agent Geoffrey, what the hell’s going on? Why did those men take Tom?”

  “Mr. Applin. That man we shot was not Agent Baker. The real Agent Baker is the man who was just kidnapped. The man you’ve been calling Tom. It’s likely the men looking for Liam suspected he was hiding at your shop and were attempting to draw him out by using his name.”

  “What?” Had he heard right? No, it wasn’t possible.

  “Tom’s real name is Liam Baker, and he’s a federal agent. We’ve been searching for him for weeks.” Agent Geoffrey let out a deep breath. “You did one hell of a job hiding him. Though we still don’t know why he didn’t make contact, or why he chose you.”

  “Oh my God,” Joe gasped.

  “Don’t worry,” Agent Geoffrey assured him. “Liam will buy us some time until we get there.”

  “Liam? Oh, right.” His name is Liam….

  “He’s been in tough spots before.”

  Joe ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “What if he can’t buy himself time? What if we get there too late and they kill him?” This was so much worse than he thought.

  “Really, Mr. Applin. Liam’s highly experienced.”

  Joe shook his head. “Liam might be, but what about Tom?”

  “I don’t follow.” Agent Geoffrey tapped at his earpiece, speaking to someone on the other end. It looked like they were heading up Henry Hudson Parkway. Didn’t they understand? Didn’t they know?

  “The reason Tom—I mean, Liam—didn’t get into contact with you is because he lost his memory.” It was all falling into place. His training, his skills, the precision with which he did things, the way he retained information down to the tiniest details, the events leading up to Joe finding him. At least from what Joe could piece together.

  “Come again?”

  Yeah, it sounded crazy even to him, and he knew it to be the truth. “When I found him, he couldn’t remember who he was. Not even his name. What if he can’t remember his training?”

  Agent Geoffrey was stunned. “Are you telling me Liam has amnesia?”

  “I know how it sounds, believe me, but it’s true. I found him in the garden next to my shop. He was bleeding from a blow to the back of the head, but he refused to go to the hospital, begged me to help him, and wouldn’t let me call the cops. Kept saying he’d end up dead.”

  “That’s because Liam was working undercover, posing as a hired gunman for a local drug cartel. We’ve been after them for months, but every time we received information on a shipment, we’d find nothing. Someone was tipping them off. They were always a step ahead. Liam was familiar with the territory. So he was sent undercover. The last message we received said he had what we needed, but somewhere en route to drop off the package, he disappeared, fell completely off the grid. We worried he may have been made.”

  “McCrea and Romero.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Two detectives who came into the shop looking for Tom. I got a bad feeling about them, so I lied. Told them I hadn’t seen the man they were looking for.” Joe slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the SD card. He handed it to Agent Geoffrey. “Their names are on this list.”

  Agent Geoffrey took the card from him, his eyes wide. “Where did you get this?”

  “Tom—I mean Liam—found it buried in the garden in a potted plant. We think he stashed it there before he was assaulted. It would explain why there was nothing but dirt and flower petals in his pockets when I found him. It’s encrypted, but he knew what to do. He was able to access it. It has a long list of names, numbers, and figures, surveillance photos, invoices, and a bunch of other stuff. Those detectives were on the list, along with a court judge.”

  “That’s what Liam found. Dirty officials on the cartel’s payroll. No wonder we kept hitting a wall. Damn it. Someone on that list must have made Liam.”

  Joe grabbed a hold of Geoffrey’s arm. “When they find out he doesn’t have it….”

  Agent Geoffrey tapped his earpiece. “We need to catch these guys, now.”

  Joe looked out his window. Up ahead he could see the exit for Inwood Hill Park. Jesus, they were going to drag Tom into the dark woods. How the hell were they supposed to find him in all those dense trees? The closer they got to the place, the more anxious Joe became. He tried not to think of the poor innocent people who’d been found dead in that park over the years. He dug his fingers into the passenger side door. If anyone could save Tom, it was the FBI, right? They had to be as experienced as Tom. Liam. Dammit. He had to get used to that.

  The sirens blared and lights flashed as they sped down the parkway in a convoy of huge black vehicles. Joe had no idea if the men who took Liam were still ahead of them or already in the park. Within minutes, their vehicle came to a stop outside the park. Everyone jumped to action, and Joe silently slid out, aware of the resonating sound of cocking firearms. Agent Geoffrey rounded everyone up and gave instructions.

  “Spread out. I want Agent Baker returned alive.”

  Alive? Oh God. The gravity of the situation hit Joe hard. What if the men killed Liam? There was so much Joe wanted to say to him. They were so close to the truth. Did Liam remember who he was? Joe stood by, feeling useless, but what could he do? These were professionals. This was what they did. Agent Geoffrey spotted him and hurried over.

  “Stay here, Mr. Applin.”

  Joe nodded as dozens of agents disappeared into the darkened forest. All Joe could think about was Liam, in there somewhere, against who knew what, in danger.

  Please, be okay. You have to be okay.

  Liam remembered everything.

  He remembered hitting his head on the radiator when he was a kid after not listening to his mom about jumping on the bed. He had to get stitches and to this day had a faint scar on his left eyebrow. Then there was the time he’d chased his sister into the basement of their neighbor’s house while their mom got a perm and he scraped his head on the unpolished banister. He bled but thankfully no stitches were needed. He really needed to stop hitting his head. Everything was there, everything before today, including the first time he saw Joe’s deep blue-green eyes.

  There was no way in hell he wasn’t making it out of this. Joe was alive. For a moment he’d been terrified, thinking that son of a bitch imposter had shot Joe, but when he heard the sirens, heard the bastards arguing about leaving the “pie guy” behind, he knew Joe was safe. Geoffrey had found him. Liam could always count on his partner to come through for him.

  They’d been walking for miles. During that time, Liam had been studying his captors and his surroundings. The men stopped in a clearing. Someone jerked him to a halt before kicking at the back of Liam’s knees and forcing him down onto the dirt, his hands zip-tied in front of him. All he needed was the right opportunity, but first he needed to buy himself some time. His team wouldn’t be far. He’d be surprised if they weren’t already tracking him.

  “Where is it?” one guy growled.

  “Where’s what?” Liam asked, adding a slight tremor to his voice.

  A punch snapped Liam’s head to one side, splitting his lip and leaving a slight copper taste in his mouth. He remembered the taste well, along with the blood, broken bones, bruises, and everything else that came with being a field agent. He remembered being shot at, punched, grazed by a runaway truck, and a host of other injuries he’d acquired while taking down drug-peddling assholes like these.

  “Where’s the package?”

  Liam spit out saliva tinged with blood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  One of the dark-haired goons holding a rifle sneered. “Don’t play dumb with us. We know you’re a Fed. Matteo wants your head for your betrayal.”

  Matteo would want someone’s head for sneezing. The guy was a hotheaded nasty piece of work, ruthless in his quest to expand his empire. He started out small, taking over his father’s drug running business before the shipments went from drugs, to firearms, and finally people. It had taken a hell of a lot of restraint on Liam’s part to act indifferent to the freighter hauling young men and women, some of them underage and others barely legal. All to be sold or forced into prostitution. That’s when Liam swore to himself that he’d do whatever it took to take down Matteo and the filth who worked for him. “I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. Look, I don’t remember anything. All I know is someone assaulted me. Hit me in the back of the head hard. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember my own name. Whoever you think I am, whatever you believe I have, I don’t remember.”

  The half-dozen armed men exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

  “You expect us to believe that?” one of them chimed in.

  “Check this guy out. I didn’t know Feds had a sense of humor.”

  Liam shook his head. “Do you really think if I was who you say I am that I wouldn’t have run off to the cops? That I wouldn’t have done whatever I was supposed to do with this package you’re after? You’ve been after me for how long? I’ve been washing dishes and baking pies, man. Does that sound like something a Fed would do while he’s being chased by God knows who?”

  The men seemed to think on that.

  One of the guys frowned. “He’s got a point, Castro. Dude’s been hanging out in a pie shop.”

  “Bullshit. If that was true, then how come he kicked the shit out of Santo and his guys? This guy wiped the floor with them.” The head moron in charge marched up to Liam and smacked him with the butt of his machine gun. Stars appeared in the front of Liam’s eyes, and he sucked in a sharp breath. His face was in serious pain, but he couldn’t make a move. Not yet. Before he could recover, he was punched across the face and kicked in the chest. He wheezed and drew in a lungful of air as he fell onto his side. He was kicked a couple more times for good measure, pain shooting through his body. Liam tightened his abs and covered his head as best he could with his restrained hands.

  “We need him alive, you idiot,” another gunman hissed.

  The guy who’d kicked him jerked him back onto his knees in front of him. “If you can’t remember, maybe we’ll go back and ask your boyfriend.” He laughed as he squeezed Liam’s cheeks.

  The hell you will. Liam murmured something under his breath.

  “What was that?” The guy leaned in closer. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I said,” Liam ground out through gritted teeth, “I’d like to see you try.” He made fists and thrust his elbows back with all his strength just as he smacked his head forward, head-butting the guy as he snapped the zip tie restraining him. Liam threw a hand out and grabbed hold of the guy’s shirt, snatching the machine gun away with his other hand. Knowing what came next, Liam spun the guy in front of him, using him as a shield. He could almost kiss the guy for wearing a vest. Instead, he fired at the guy’s associates as he backed up toward some trees. No honor among thieves. They fired at him, hitting their friend wherever they could in the hopes of getting Liam.

  When Liam was in the clear, he released his screaming and bloodied friend and took off into the woods. The men shot as they chased after him into the darkened mass of trees. Liam knew the place well. He’d come here plenty of times with his parents when he was a kid and then with friends when he was older. If he kept down this path, he’d end up on Payson Avenue a few yards from the playground. Liam fired behind him at no one in particular. All he had to do was continue making enough noise and his team would find him. They’d close in on the bastards and take them down.

  Liam ducked and dodged, running around trees, and over boulders and fallen trees. The shooting continued and a bullet grazed Liam’s arm.

  “Shit.” He ducked behind a tree. In the distance he could hear shouting and see the faint glow of flashlights. His captors were closing in on him. If he called out now, he’d give away his position. Forget waiting for backup. It was time to take matters into his own hands. Liam checked the magazine of the machine gun. He was tired of being hunted. It was time to become the hunter.

  Liam slipped into a thicket of trees and crouched down in the shadows. He grabbed a rock and tossed it far across to the other side, where it hit a tree. Two of the men rushed forward, their guns ready. Liam fired twice, one bullet per guy, catching them both in the legs. They dropped to the ground, shooting blindly as they screamed and writhed in pain. Three down. Three more to go. Liam silently and swiftly left his hiding spot to duck behind a large tree. He peeked out, grinning. The three men were out in the open, exposed. Liam’s adrenaline was pumping. He smiled to himself. It was good to be back.