Trap, Secure - Carol Ericson Mills & Boon Intrigue

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inside of his cheek. If he focused on her attractiveness, he’d never get through this. She’d probably used her looks to get out of all kinds of scrapes. But not this time. He pinned his shoulders to the back of his chair.

      “You think that’s going to save you? If you’ve been out here...consorting with Zendaris, we can bring you down, too. Make no mistake about it. Where is he? Where is Zendaris? What does he look like? I’m sure you’ve seen the real Zendaris—in the flesh.”

      His lips twisted into a sneer because the woman’s eyes had grown bigger and bigger with each question until they took up half her face.

      “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Yeah, right. You’ve been with him...how long? How do you think he financed this lavish lifestyle? Did he lay some jewels on you? Some designer duds? Give it up, sweetheart, just like you gave it up to Zendaris. Where is he?”

      Her full bottom lip trembled, and a big tear splashed onto her cheek.

      Gage swept off his black beanie and raked a hand through his hair. Great. He’d made a woman cry—the last thing he ever wanted to do. But the woman in front of him was no damsel in distress. She had to know Zendaris’s business and that made her complicit in all the death and destruction that business engendered.

      “Look, this will go easier on you if you just cooperate.”

      She licked her lips, catching the tear on her tongue. “I’d like to help you. I really would, but I can’t.”

      Hunching forward, he braced his hands on his knees. “If you’re afraid for your life, we can protect you. We’ll give you a new identity.”

      She smiled then, a tremulous smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That would be nice because I don’t even have an old identity.”

      He narrowed his eyes. What kind of trick was she playing now? “What are you talking about?”

      She spread her hands. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know this Zendaris person. In fact, I have no memory at all.”

      Chapter Three

      The man’s eyes were slits now—aquamarine slits. How could someone’s eyes be so blue? But they were hard and cold. He didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

      He threw his head back and laughed. She shivered. His laugh was as cold as his eyes.

      “You want me to believe you have no memory? You don’t know your name or who you are or what you’re doing on Nico Zendaris’s compound?”

      She put a hand to her head and traced the bandage there. “I don’t want you to believe anything. That’s the truth, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

      The man, Gage, jumped up from the lawn chair, knocking it to the ground. Then he swung around and jabbed a finger in her face. “This could go very badly for you.”

      “Too late.” She covered her face with her hands.

      She heard him shuffling on the patio, and as she peered at him through her fingers, he righted the chair. He took a seat across from her again, his knees touching hers.

      “What do you remember?”

      “Does this mean you believe me?”

      “Thought you said that didn’t matter to you?”

      She’d lied. If he believed her he’d help her, and God knows she needed help. If he didn’t believe her, he’d still help her, at least physically, but his eyes would remain cold every time he looked at her.

      “The first thing I remember is coming to on those flagstones. My head hurt, my arm hurt. A strong impulse to get away overwhelmed me, so I started crawling.”

      “Was anyone around you? Did you see anything or anyone?”

      “No. I heard shouting from somewhere, but I now know those were your marines.”

      “Green Berets, and they’re not mine.”

      She shrugged and pain shot through her upper left arm. The man who’d treated her said she’d been grazed by a bullet. Why would anyone be shooting at her?

      “Are you okay?” Gage half rose from his chair.

      So he did care—a little bit. “It’s my arm. My head’s throbbing, too, so if that Green Beret left any ibuprofen in that case, I’ll take some.”

      He slid the first-aid kit from the table and popped it open. He sorted through some small envelopes and pulled one free. “You’re in luck.”

      He ripped the pack open for her and she downed two gel capsules.

      “You don’t know Zendaris or what you’re doing here?”

      “I don’t even know my own name. That other name means nothing to me. I don’t even know where I am.”

      The impact of her statement sent a rush of nausea to the pit of her stomach, and she doubled over.

      “You’re not well.”

      “Would you be well if you woke up with no memory and a gunshot wound? Where am I? Who’s Zendaris?”

      Her hands had been fluttering in front of her, and he captured them between his. “You’re in Colombia, not far from Barranquilla—at least that’s the nearest big city.”

      Barranquilla. “Yo conozco Barranquilla. I know Barranquilla. I—I speak Spanish.”

      He studied her with those blue eyes. Were they melting a little around the edges?

      “Nico Zendaris is...a bad person.”

      “What were you and your friends doing here? Were you going to arrest him?”

      “Was he here to arrest?”

      She closed her eyes. He still didn’t believe her. “How would I know that?”

      He cocked his head, and a lock of brown hair fell over one eye. “Aren’t you curious to know what you were doing in the home of a man like Zendaris? A man who could inspire a raid by the U.S. Army Special Forces?”

      “I’m curious about everything. Like why didn’t you leave with the others? Why did they defer to you when that other man, that captain, was obviously in charge of the military guys?”

      The line of Gage’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like her questions. He liked her tears better, her sighs, her weakness. Tough. She couldn’t afford to be weak. She had to figure out who she was, what she was doing here and what Gage Booker wanted with her.

      “That’s my business, and I’m not about to tell a potential criminal.”

      “Can you help me figure out who I am?”

      “Oh, I’ll help you. And once you get your memory back, if in fact you ever lost it, I’m going to proceed to pick your brain.”

      “That’s something to look forward to.” She put on a sweet smile, even though it hurt her head to do so.

      He snatched a full bottle of water from the table and downed half of it. “You’re Nico Zendaris’s lover.”

      If he’d intended to shock her with his words, he’d be disappointed. She had no memory of being anyone’s lover and until she did, she’d take no responsibility for what that entailed.

      “If you’re so certain I’m Zendaris’s girlfriend, why don’t you know my name?”

      “Because we know very little about the man. We don’t even know what he looks like.” Reaching over, he dragged the black backpack toward his feet. He rummaged through the pack, pulled out a file folder and slipped a photograph from the folder. He dropped the picture on the table.

      “This,”

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