The idea terrified her. She didn’t want to be the woman it appeared she had been. She wanted to be better.

  Wiping a tear, he lifted her chin. “I know no such thing.”

  Cord cleared his throat. “Y’all ready?”

  Hollis closed the door and climbed in the front. Cord slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine.

  They drove in silence until Cord broke it. “So, Grace, what are you bringing to the Memorial Day picnic?”

  Not quite the mood lightener as Hollis, but she admired that he was trying. Cord was attractive and kind. More rigid than Hollis. But it was hard to compare any man to Hollis Montgomery. Not a single one could hold a candle.

  She’d go with his path of conversation, though. “Probably pasta salad.”

  Hollis flipped the visor down, opened the mirror and peered at her through it—a twinkle in his eyes. “If she has time in between picking off people with a sniper rifle and trying to survive murderous attempts on her life.”

  Grace caught the horror-stricken look on Cord’s face in the rearview mirror. She busted a gut. Hollis joined in.

  Finally, Cord smirked. “Ah, I get it. Inappropriate joking is your thing.”

  It was. They had a thing. She kinda liked that. No, she loved it. “And pasta salad,” Grace added.

  Hollis shifted in his seat and winked at her. “And pasta salad,” he repeated. It wasn’t so much the words but the emotion behind them, the way he held her gaze. It was as if she were looking into what their future could be—if there was a future to be had between them. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. And who knew? Grace could be reading into his eyes, his gentle tone. Wishing when in truth it was simply a joking “thing” between friends.

  After picking up Hollis’s truck, he drove Grace to Tish’s. “Stay close. I don’t want to leave you here at all. It’s a risk. But they did wait until we were alone in my house to attack. I’m hoping that was strategic and they are shying away from attacking in a public place. Just use common sense.”

  As if she planned to be stupid. “What’s that?” she asked as she hopped out of the truck. “I can’t remember.”

  He poked his head out of the window. “Now is not the time to make jokes, Grace.”

  She tipped her head, keeping a somber face. “I’m not. I can’t recall the word.”

  Hollis squinted and studied her. “It means stay away from windows, don’t go outside alone, don’t clean rooms without Tish with you—safety in numbers... Don’t take candy from strangers...” He flashed a wicked grin. “Eat all your vegetables.”

  “You knew I was kidding?” She thought she had him.

  “I know you, Grace, and your facial expressions. Now get. I’ll call and check in when I can and be back around one or one thirty—unless you need me before then.”

  She curtsied and heard him laugh as she hurried inside the inn’s kitchen. He honked his goodbye and she grinned.

  Tish looked up from stirring a pot of her famous marinara sauce. “You look like my Andrea when she came home from her first date with Mac.”

  Tish’s daughter and Mac had been married for ten years. They lived near Memphis. Grace had met her many times. “I assure you I’ve been on no dates. Unless running for your life next to someone counts.”

  Tasting a spoonful of sauce, Tish grunted. “Running from love seems to me.”

  Pfft. “Am not.” She lifted a pale blue apron off the hook and slipped it on, tying it around her waist.

  “If you say so.” She harrumphed and rinsed the spoon. “I’m making lasagna tonight. Should be easy enough. Easier than running from love, anyway.”

  Grace opened the fridge and frowned. “I’m not running from love. Hollis and I are friends, Tish.” She grabbed the eggs, mozzarella cheese and ricotta and set them on the island. “I got zero to offer.”

  “Baloney.”

  “You want to put bologna in the lasagna?” she teased.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t use that memory loss when it suits you, dear one. Like, to avoid falling in love with Hollis because you’re afraid if it shattered to pieces, you’d be lost.”

  Grace grabbed her mixing bowl and began cracking eggs for the filling. “Not true.” But it might be. She’d never let herself think about anything romantic with Hollis—at least for long. “But you’re right about feeling lost without him. Hollis is my favorite.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “As in my best friend. It’s one thing to know about my past—if it’s horrific—as a friend. But to be romantically involved... That might be too much to take. A friend could be supportive. A man in love with me, well, it might be enough to scare him away.”

  “So you say.” Tish gave her a motherly scowl. “I’ve never seen Hollister Montgomery shy away from anything that might be overwhelming or frightening.”

  “I have to run an errand around ten.”

  “With Hollis?”

  Grace didn’t want to lie to Tish. But Hollis couldn’t know about her appointment with the McKnights. “Santa. The president. Old Man Winter...” She laid on the sarcasm until Tish snorted. Her answers were so preposterous it had to be Hollis. Except it wasn’t and Grace hadn’t technically lied.

  But she’d been deceptive and it had come easily. She shuddered and told herself it was for the greater good. More facts. Better handle on the situation and solving it. Then everyone was safe, including Tish.

  After finishing the cheese filling for the lasagnas, she tossed her apron and peeked outside. Ugh. Rain again. But Tish was upstairs so now was a good time to go before any more questions arose and forced Grace to lie. She grabbed a raincoat by the kitchen door and her purse, hopped in her car and drove to the diner outside of town.

  The greasy spoon smelled of onions and fried goodness. Not too crowded. Grace scanned the little establishment. In a corner booth, she recognized the pretty brunette as Blair McKnight from the news photos, and sitting beside her was a real live Superman, with eyes so blue they popped from here. Must be former DEA agent and her husband Holt. Swallowing fear, she made her way over.

  “Mr. and Mrs. McKnight?” she asked.

  “Grace?” Blair said.

  Grace nodded and they finished making introductions as Grace took the open seat across from them.

  Holt took the reins and recapped their conversation from the night before to make sure they understood everything. Grace nodded and revealed her fears. “I’d love to believe I’m not the bad guy. But everything is pointing to it. Even if I did flip on Hector. Would he tell me the truth about who I am—who I was?”

  Blair glanced at her husband and he nodded once. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Grace’s. “I’m sorry for what’s happened and what you’ll have to wade through if—or when—your memories return. Hector is a dangerous man with a powerful reach. His empire still flourishes under his control, even in prison. It sounds like you—and Dr. Sayer—betrayed him. That is one thing Hector does not tolerate. But she must be useful to him. Enough he wants her back alive and has likely been searching for her these past two years.”

  Holt rubbed his dark scruffy chin. “And he wants you to spill her location. I think the attempts on your life—at least the ones under his authority—may be to scare and even wound you, but not kill you. You’re valuable to him at the moment as well.”

  After they found Dr. Sayer, Grace would be expendable. Then he would come full force like the other people who had tried to kill her. She was doomed. “Why do you think he wants the doctor?”

  Holt leaned forward, tenting his fingers on the table. “I did some digging after we talked. Made some phone calls. According to my friends at the DEA, Hector had a private lab on his compound—if I wasn’t undercover in Hope working on finding a missing agent I would have known about the lab and maybe have been on the team that descended on the compound when it appears you fled with the doctor.”

  Missing agents. Missing doctors. Felt like an action movie.

  Holt continued. “When the DEA infiltrated the compound, the lab was already ablaze. They detained the remaining four scientists on-site—all mid-to late-twenties. They testified that Patsy Sayer employed them to work on a project in conjunction with the CDC—”

  “Let me guess. That wasn’t true.”

  “No. She told them their research was top secret and because the assignment was above their pay grade, they were given only bits and pieces of information on a need-to-know basis to conduct the project.”

  “Did they have any inkling what that project might be?” Grace asked.

  “They all agreed it was a toxin. One young man in the group believes now—after the DEA showed up—that it was all lies and Hector Salvador was going to use the toxin to crop dust over his rival cartels’ poppies, wrecking their harvest.”

  “Poppies? Sorry, my memory...”

  “Poppies are gathered to make opiates—drugs. Which means Hector would rule the drug trade.”

  Grace pinched the bridge of her nose. “According to our sheriff’s theory, I was at the compound collecting evidence for a government agency. If that’s true, I must have been after information on the toxin. But if the lab was on fire when the DEA arrived and all the information burned...did I double-cross the agents or did something else happen? If I was responsible for it, did I plan to do something sinister with the information? That could be why I ran and took the doctor. And who tipped them off that Hector was off-site? The DEA came when he was out of the country, right?”

  “They didn’t know about the toxin—they did know about a lab. They assumed from surveillance it was for opiates. The reason they came when they did was because they got news Hector had been arrested in Hope. It was a prime opportunity. Confiscate drugs. Arrest his cronies. Add to his charges. How you and the doctor escaped and you ended up in Mississippi is a mystery I have no hypothesis on,” Holt said.

  Grace sipped the water the server had brought and racked her brain, begged it to produce a memory. “If Hector wants Dr. Sayer, then he may want her to finish the toxin or give him the compounds and research. Right?”

  “Yes. He’s probably been searching for her this entire time. You said this Peter guy saw you on the news, right? It was national? Likely,” Holt said, “Hector, or one of his men, saw you too.”

  Grace had more questions than answers. “Is there anything else you know that might help me?”

  Holt and Blair exchanged glances.

  Holt sighed. “Grace, you should know that the scientists stated Hector had a mistress living on the compound with him. She came about two months after they arrived—and she was there eight months. Her name was Valentina Sanchez.” He slipped his phone from his pocket and swiped it a few times. “A friend in the DEA sent me the drawing the sketch artist created based on their description of Valentina.” He passed the phone across the table.

  Grace forced herself to look at it.

  The nose was a little off, but the eyes. Those were her eyes, her mouth, her hair—even her cheekbones. Grace might as well have taken a punch to the belly. She’d been hoping for a better answer—one that painted her in an honorable light. Something she could share with Hollis that wouldn’t confirm his or Cord’s theories—or her own. “I was his mistress—whether I was his assassin or not—this holds true. Whether I flipped or not... I was in a romantic relationship with an evil monster.”

  “That doesn’t make you one,” Blair said. “I was once married to an evil monster—Hector’s brother. I got out. And it seems you did too.”

  “Did you do evil things while you were married to him? Did you know who he was?” Grace swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Blair bit her bottom lip and tossed Holt another glance. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Well, I did. I know I did. I can feel it. So, what does that make me?” She needed air. To get out of there. She stood. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Grace, are you going to see Hector?” Blair asked.

  Grace inhaled deeply. “I don’t know. He holds answers. I need some. And it’s not like he doesn’t know I’m alive and is already coming for me.”

  What did she have to lose?

  SIX

  “Now that I think about it, she didn’t actually say she was going to meet you, Hollis. Just that she had to leave at ten.” Tish wrung a dish towel through her hands; worry etched around her mouth.

  Hollis was fit to be tied. “She let you assume, though. She didn’t set you straight.”

  Tish bit the corner of her bottom lip. “Well, no.”

  He’d taken a break from sandbagging and swung by to take Grace to an early lunch if she was available—if not, he’d eat a sandwich at the inn. But Grace had disappeared—voluntarily. What was she thinking? She hadn’t even answered any of his texts or phone calls. Did she not realize how worried he would be given the circumstances?

  Hollis pulled his phone from his pocket. Time to call Cord. He needed reinforcements to find her.

  The door opened. Grace walked in and froze.

  Yeah, busted. “Where have you been? I’m thinking you weren’t teasing about not understanding common sense. Or do you now have short-term memory loss too? Or both? Which is it?” Fear had morphed into fury now that he knew she was unharmed. “Because you couldn’t possibly be crazy enough to go off gallivanting around town when multiple people want to see you six feet under!” he bellowed, his temper getting the better of him.

  “Hollis,” Tish quietly warned.

  “I mean that is just asinine.” He all but shook the walls with his raised voice. His brain signaled him to calm himself. To stop carrying on. But his heart had been frayed and frazzled. “You could have been kidnapped, beat up—again—or worse, murdered and left for dead. Do you think I want to find your body for a second time? Do you have any clue what that would do to me? Do you even care?”

  Grace straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. He knew that look all too well. He’d crossed a line, set her off. She came at him with predatory eyes, and with more force than he realized she had, rammed his chest knocking his bulky frame back a step. Grace Thackery knew where to aim. “You. Don’t. Own. Me.” She shoved him again, but this time he was ready for her and blocked her. But she came at him again, wildness in her eyes. “If I want to leave this place and go to China, then I will.” She went into fighting stance. “And if you ever raise your voice to me again, you will regret it.”

  It was almost like she didn’t even see Hollis. As if she were speaking to someone in her past. But she was in fighting stance and unpredictable. He wasn’t sure if he should get up in her face and physically end this...or run for the hills.

  “Tish, leave this kitchen right now,” Grace commanded with an authority and bite that sent a shudder through Hollis. This must be the Mad Max Peter and Crewcut had referred to.

  Tish cleared her throat, but obeyed.

  When Tish exited the kitchen, Grace got all up in Hollis’s grill. “Apologize,” she demanded, fire and ice swirling in her shadowy eyes.

  His temper flared again but those words of scripture blanketed his heart once more and cooled his ire.

  A soft answer turneth away wrath.

  Grace’s fury was bottled deep from her past and her display was misguided, popping up now that she was being stressed—now that memories were flashing.

  He lowered his voice, lightened his tone. “For what?” He held his hands up in surrender—showing her he was a safe place. Maybe in her rocky past, her only place to fall was on thorns. He’d seen some of her scars. But Hollis would never be one to rip or shred Grace. “For trying to protect you? For worrying about your safety? For freaking out?”

  Like reaching for a cornered animal, he kept his eyes locked on hers and eased his outstretched hands to her face, cradling her cheeks. “It’s me, Grace. I’m not your enemy. Not ever.”

  She stared at him, then blinked and the light of the Grace he knew popped back into her gorgeous ebony eyes. “I don’t know what came over me. You yelled at me...”

  “I am sorry for that, Grace.” He made a mistake. “What triggered this behavior?” Was it her secretive venture? Had she discovered new information or recovered new memories?

  She spun and sank into a kitchen chair. “I don’t know. It’s as if I’m outraged over something—and it bursts through uncontrollably. Takes over everything. I can’t explain it. It scares me.”

  Scared him too. If it got so out of hand he couldn’t talk her down... He’d have to use force or she could hurt him—probably not severely, but give him a serious run for his money. May it never come to that. Grace’s prowess and power unnerved him; and he admired her fiercely too. Her strength didn’t intimidate him. “Where were you? What was so important that you’d risk your safety and my sanity?”

  His phone rang. “Kali from the café,” he said and answered. “Hey, Kali.”

  “Hollis, I’m sorry to bother you but my car is stalled out on Muddy River Road. It’s flooded. Can you tow me out? I tried calling Trevor at the towing service, but they’re backed up and he’s out on a call. I totally have to get to work.”

  This was going to be happening more often if this rain didn’t halt ASAP. “On our way.” He filled Grace in as they hopped in the truck. “Now isn’t the time, we have to deal with Kali, but our earlier conversation isn’t over, Grace.”

  “Which one? I may have short-term memory loss, now too.” She arched an eyebrow, but he spotted the measure of playfulness in it.

  “I am sorry for how I said what I said. I’m not sorry for what I said.”

  “Say that again.”

  When he glanced over, she was grinning. “You know what I mean, Grace. I was terrified. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t want someone to hurt you. I believe you can take care of yourself one hundred percent. But you don’t have any memory which makes your predicament more dangerous.”