No. She had Dr. Sayer. They wanted her. Hollis was leverage—or they took him to cough up the doctor’s whereabouts. If he told them they’d kill him. If he didn’t, they’d kill him.

  Grace’s mouth watered as if she might vomit.

  “Hey, don’t get sick on me now. We have work to do.”

  Ten minutes later, Siobhan parked at the SAR facility. Grace felt worse by the minute. Sluggish. Stress and lack of sleep must be taking its toll. She pushed on. They entered the facility. “I’ll check the office,” Grace said. “You check the conference room. West side.”

  Siobhan nodded and they split up. Grace rubbed her head and tiptoed into the office. No sign of Hollis. After checking the bathrooms, training rooms—even supply closets—he wasn’t to be found.

  As she came into the open area where the diving equipment was located, a Latino man dressed in fatigues rushed Grace, knocking her onto the concrete flooring that was wet from the flood seeping in. Maybe Hector had paid mercenaries.

  “Max!” Siobhan hollered and came running as another man charged her. She bent and flipped him, as Grace struggled to push her attacker away, but she wasn’t focused. Everything was fuzzy.

  Grace slid her hands across the floor, hunting for anything she could use as a weapon and her touch connected with an oar. She whacked her attacker and bolted outside, a gunshot echoed and Siobhan came running right behind.

  “Get in the Jeep,” Siobhan hollered.

  But the biggest man dove onto Siobhan. She flipped him over, but he sprang up, a knife in hand.

  Grace searched Siobhan’s vehicle for anything she could use to help her.

  Out of nowhere, she was thrust onto the ground, the cool water seeping into her clothing, soaking her hair. The man shoved her face into a puddle. Just like Monday. “No more playing around,” he said in a thick accent.

  She couldn’t get her bearings. Her head was splitting in two and her stomach roiled, but she fought. Grace thrust out her leg and kicked him. He let up and she sucked in a gulp of air as he forced her down again.

  Thunder cracked.

  The bottom dropped out of the sky and torrential rain fell.

  Lungs burned.

  Need air.

  God, help me! Help me!

  Lately, the last thing she wanted was her memories. She didn’t want to deal with the pain of who she’d been and what she’d done, but right now...right now she wanted it all. She needed her skill set, needed her training, and all her faculties to defend herself and to find Hollis.

  He hadn’t asked for this.

  To save him, she’d take on every ounce of pain emotionally and physically.

  Any second, she was going to pass out.

  And like someone flipped on a switch, a loop of memories flooded her.

  She was ten and disappointed Daddy had missed yet another birthday.

  Sweet Sixteen. She’d had her first kiss. It hadn’t been great. And of course, Dad had missed that birthday too.

  Pain of her parents’ death.

  Clive! Her fatherly love for him when she hadn’t had much fatherly love of her own. Dad had always been gone or distant. Mom had made one excuse after another.

  And her training. All the extensive hours of special training.

  Back.

  Everything was back.

  She arched her body like a cat in one swift motion and knocked the man straddling her off balance, then came out of the water with a vengeance.

  He came at her again, but she blocked him and used her leg to sweep him on his back just as she spotted Siobhan come around behind him, and in a fell swoop, twist his neck and drop him to the ground dead.

  The second man sucker punched Grace and she came at him with an elbow to his nose, then a move to knock him out. Instinct said kill him. One less bad guy in the world.

  But no. That wasn’t her decision. She was not God.

  And neither was Siobhan.

  Once, Grace would have snapped him like a twig and never blinked.

  Hollis was right. She could choose her behavior.

  “Going soft on me?” Siobhan snorted.

  “He might know where Hollis is.”

  “Nah, he doesn’t.” Siobhan pulled her gun.

  “Don’t shoot him,” Grace hollered. This wasn’t the way it should be. Arrest him or something, but murdering him? Self-defense was one thing. Cold-blooded assassination. No way.

  “I’m not.” She looked at Grace as if she were out of her mind. “I’m not shooting anyone. Yet.”

  Before Grace had time to register what was happening, Siobhan raised the butt of the gun and everything faded to black.

  * * *

  Hollis blinked, his vision still spotty. Someone had knocked him out with a gun. The events slowly came into focus in his mind. The man who had gotten away in the storage shed had been there and a new...older man.

  Grace... Grace!

  Hollis couldn’t stand. He’d been bound, hands behind him, feet tied to the legs of the chair. He was cold and wet. Quickly, he surveyed his surroundings. He was inside what looked to be a walk-in cooler. It was completely empty, but a milk jug was lying on the floor. Denner Dairy Farm.

  The facility had been abandoned for about six months. No one had purchased it yet and Jerry Denner moved with his wife to Florida to retire. How did these people even know about this place?

  CIA. They knew everything—had information at their fingertips in seconds.

  The door was ajar and beyond it was the pasteurizing area. Machines. Tubes. They were on the edge of town—a town that was flooding by the second. Even if Cord went hunting for him, the last place he’d ever imagine to search was the dairy farm. And who knew where Grace was. He could only hope she’d fought off her attackers, escaped her home and run for the hills. In a perfect world, she was miles away by now.

  Hollis pulled on the thin rope he’d been bound with. He’d tied many a tarp with this kind of binding. Someone had done a bang-up job. If he could get his knife from his pocket—though he couldn’t feel the weight of it. They’d likely patted him down and confiscated his weapons when he was unconscious. They weren’t idiots.

  But he would find a way out of this. Find Grace. And they’d fix this somehow. Together. Who would believe one CIA agent with amnesia if she said her superior might be trying to murder her? Clive—any of them—could spin whatever tale they chose. Have her arrested. Worse.

  Grace might not ever be free. She might be running her entire life. CCM might be able to help her disappear. That’s why she’d written the letter. Hollis completely understood even if he strongly disagreed. She wanted Hollis to be happy, but she didn’t comprehend the whole truth. Hollis would never be fully happy without Grace in his life.

  He prayed God would rescue him, protect Grace and that He’d bring back her memories, even the tough ones. She would need them out there alone. She needed to know who to trust.

  The door opened and the older man who’d knocked him in the head with the gun entered. Hollis had a headache as a reminder. “Well, nice to see you up and awake, Hollister Montgomery. Former navy SEAL. I got into your dossier. Quite the hero, aren’t you?”

  Hollis clenched his teeth and remained calm, assessing the situation and hatching a plan to escape.

  “Born and raised in Alabama. One sister—Greer Montgomery who is engaged to be married to a Locklin Gallagher, which means you have ties to Jody Gallagher-Novak and Wilder Flynn. Have they been helping you? Did they find Dr. Sayer for you? I know you have her.”

  “I have no one.” On so many levels. “I’m sitting here in a chair alone.”

  The man only raised his eyebrows.

  “You seem to know a lot about me. But I don’t even know your name.” He tried to remain calm, but they knew about Greer. Where she was. What if they tried to use her as leverage? What if they already had her—or baby Lin? Pure terror sent his heart into arrhythmia.

  The man pushed his dark-framed glasses onto the bridge of his pointed nose which was slightly pink from being in this cooling unit. His hair was a little thin on top. Sharp chin. Thin lips. Icy blue eyes. Slender build, but Hollis had learned long ago not to underestimate anyone over size. Grace was a prime example.

  “My apologies. Clive Epps.” He smirked at Hollis’s bound wrists. “I’d shake your hand...”

  Hollis remained stoic.

  “I’m not a bad guy—”

  “Says the man who tried to kill me and Grace at least twice and has me bound in an abandoned dairy farm.”

  Clive chuckled. “I admit my first impression isn’t great. But all this can be rectified. I just need Dr. Sayer. And I’ll let you go.”

  And it would snow six feet in Mississippi this year. “I don’t know where she is.” That was the truth. She was at the sheriff’s station but it might be under water this very moment, which means she could be at an evacuation site with a deputy guarding her. “Where’s Grace? Her place was tossed. I know she didn’t do it.”

  “No, she didn’t do that. We were looking for something...that we didn’t find. No matter. We’ll get what we want. We always do.”

  “Where is Grace?” Hollis asked again.

  “Grace isn’t who you think she is, Hollister Montgomery. She’s our Mad Max. A killer. For the good guys, of course. A wolf. This whole small-town charade. When she remembers—and she will—do you really think she’s going to remain a part-time search-and-rescue volunteer? She’s made for so much more than that. And you know it. She’s vital to the agency. To our task force. A covert task force that most federal branches, including some of our very own, don’t even know about. That’s how lethal she is. How important. She’s built for more than a one-pony show.”

  It was as if he’d reached inside Hollis’s mind and pulled out his very thoughts. She was made for greater things. This town...him...they wouldn’t be enough. “She doesn’t trust you. She knows you tried to kill her.”

  “I did no such thing.” Clive frowned. “Patsy Sayer used her vulnerability to turn her against me. I had no idea she’d been harmed or left for dead until one of our agents who tried to kill her—thought he had—led us here with a smart little device I gave him and my team. To keep tabs on them, make sure they were safe. I’ve scoured the world for her. It was like she vanished, hidden behind a veil that I couldn’t even track.”

  “And now that you have, you’ve tried to kill us several times.”

  “No. I came for Patsy. For all I knew you and Lucy were aiding and abetting and harboring a fugitive. The agents at the farm had no choice but to do what was necessary in obtaining Patsy alive.”

  “Judith Ryland was shot dead.”

  “She was aiding and abetting. And Patsy is a criminal. In cahoots with Hector Salvador. I had every intention of arresting Patsy once Max had the toxin and research, but we lost her, thought Max was dead—”

  “Quit calling her that!”

  “But she is, Hollister. Surely, you’ve seen it come out in her. That wild cornered animal rage. I took that and channeled it into something beautiful. Something useful.”

  “You made her a monster under the guise of protecting America. You used her. She thought she could trust you.”

  “She can. You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know the anger and bitterness she felt when her parents died. I showed her how to use that to be the best. To avenge the death of her parents. To get revenge. I showed her how to wear the cloak of vengeance.”

  “Vengeance belongs to God,” Hollis said through his clenched jaw. This man had taken a vulnerable, hurt girl, filled with hate, bitterness and revenge and warped her sense of right and wrong. Underneath all her failed memories, that wrath had been burning.

  Clive closed the distance between them and leaned into Hollis’s face. “We’re all gods,” he hissed. “We rule our own kingdoms and make our own paths.”

  “You’re wrong,” Hollis said. “And you’re insane.” Drunk on power. Maybe once Clive had been a decent man, but the authority and rank had corrupted him. Or maybe he’d always been this way.

  “Am I?”

  Rattling came from outside the cooling unit.

  The door swung open and Crewcut barreled in with a chair identical to Hollis’s in one hand and Grace slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  “Grace!” Hollis hollered. “If you’ve hurt her, so help me when I come out of these binds—and believe me I will—you will regret it.”

  “Sounds like a man channeling some vengeance...some revenge. Maybe you’re a little insane, too, Hollister Montgomery.”

  Hollis held his tongue but seethed.

  Crewcut plopped a sleeping Grace into the chair and bound her. Her head hung, hair and clothes soaked to the bone. Muddy. A trickle of blood ran down her temple. She’d put up a fight. Good girl.

  “Agent Larken is combing over Max’s place now. Says she might find something we didn’t.” Crewcut shrugged.

  “She’s right. She and Max were roommates and best friends. She’d have knowledge you and I don’t. But even if she doesn’t turn up anything, we’ll find Patsy and we’ll get what we came for,” Clive said.

  Kneeling, Crewcut lifted Grace’s chin and lightly smacked her cheek.

  “Get your hands off her,” Hollis growled and worked to get himself free.

  “Calm down, boyfriend. I’m just trying to wake this little sweetheart up.” He smacked a bit harder. “Max...” He whistled to call her attention.

  She moaned.

  “Yeah, got a little headache, huh? Wakie wakie. Time to play.” Crewcut laughed, but Clive frowned.

  “Memory or not,” Clive said, “do not underestimate her ability.” Clive smiled at Hollis. “Once we discovered she was alive, we did a little digging. Found her hospital records. Retrograde amnesia. Tragic. But we can help her. We have excellent doctors.” He turned back to Crewcut. “Again, don’t underestimate her. She still carries muscle memory and instinct.”

  Crewcut glanced at Clive and grinned. “To do what? She’s bound.”

  In a lightning-fast motion, Grace raised the entire chair including her body and headbutted the arrogant jerk so hard he fell onto the floor. A small cut bled from above his eyebrow.

  Clive clucked his tongue against his teeth and folded his arms. “Oh, something like that.” He smiled at Grace. “Hello, Lucy.”

  Grace turned her attention to Clive. “My name is Grace.”

  “No, it’s not and you know it’s not by now, thanks to our mutual friend, Patsy, or possible memories that may have resurfaced.” Clive came close, but not too close and slid her hair behind her ears, inspected the wound on her head. “Would you like some water?”

  “I’d like out of these restraints and I’d like it if you let Hollis go. He has nothing to do with this.”

  “I agree. He doesn’t. But you’ve made him a part of it. So he stays. I don’t like this. This makes me look like the bad guy you seem to think I am.”

  “I don’t know anything! I have amnesia!” Grace slumped and tears slid down her cheeks. “I just want this to go away.”

  Clive lovingly stroked her hair. “I know. But you’re lethal and angry at me. So I have no choice but to do this the hard way. I’m taking you home where our doctors can get your memory back and then you will know the truth. You’ve harbored a terrorist, a woman guilty of treason. I’ll forgive that. We’ll move on. Accomplish our mission. And you will get revenge on those who killed your family like I’ve always encouraged you to do.”

  “I hear you killed my family.”

  Hollis watched, listened. Something wasn’t right with Grace. She wasn’t much of a crier and the way she came at that agent—seemed more than muscle memory or instinct. Seemed calculated.

  Clive sighed. “I loved your father like a brother.” The conviction behind Clive’s voice was believable. “And I love you like the daughter I never had. You know this—if you had your memory. We are family. All we have is each other. I never killed your parents, and I did not have a hand in it. But I know who did. And we’ve been tracking them for years. Bringing justice to these evil people and doing good for our country. Saving lives. Lucy, look at me.” He waited for Grace to meet his eyes.

  She finally made contact.

  “I love you, Lucy. Let me help you. Give me Patsy.”

  “What will you do with her?” Grace whispered.

  “See she’s put in prison for the rest of her life so she can’t recreate that toxin. We’ll find what you did with her research and get it into the proper hands. Where is she?” he asked gently.

  Hollis didn’t like this at all. Even if Grace agreed and they took her with them, Hollis would be collateral damage. An eerie feeling said Grace might not make it out alive either. He worked the ropes, trying to loosen them. He could not sit here and watch Grace die.

  Grace sighed. “I don’t know where she is.”

  Clive’s fatherly face turned to stone and he gave a small nod to Crewcut. “I hate to hear that. And I’m sorry for this.”

  Hollis’s blood froze. He knew what was coming. “No!”

  Crewcut made a display of curling his hand into a fist and reared back.

  “No,” Hollis bellowed.

  The fist made impact with Grace’s cheek. Hollis didn’t try to be discreet in getting loose. He worked while fear and adrenaline raced through him.

  “Where is the doctor, Lucy?” Clive asked. A slight flinch revealed he might not necessarily like what was happening but this guy would go to any length for what he considered the greater good.

  “I don’t know. Please, don’t do this,” she cried. “I don’t know!”

  Clive gave the nonverbal signal and again she took a hit, the sound echoing off the walls into the freezing temps of the room, but Hollis blazed inside. His blood boiling. He wanted to tell them where Patsy was last, but the only thing keeping them alive was remaining silent and enduring the torture. Pure. Agonizing. Torture.