Legal Trouble (Texas Hearts Book 1)

Operation Remember Us

“One more trip, and I think we’ll have everything in the moving truck.”

Preston Morgan infused as much cheer into his voice as he could manage, but his sister just nodded, her gaze bouncing left then right and back again, a frightened little bird searching out the monster she feared would jump out of the shadows to gobble her up. The sad part was she probably wasn’t wrong. Preston didn’t have concrete proof the monster who’d raised them was headed this way, but if he kept true to the threat he’d made at his sentencing hearing, he’d come for them one day.

Their father excelled at one thing above all else: hurting them.

Preston hated seeing his sister like this. She’d done so much to put their abusive childhood behind them. They both had, but the trauma had always been worse for her, both their father’s abuse and the impact it had left on her psyche. She’d spent years in counseling, tackling the panic and fear their childhood had caused, and despite the odds, she’d managed. She’d graduated high school, college, and law school before the age of twenty-three, but right now, all he saw was the meek, frightened fourteen-year-old he’d rescued after basic training.

“Ems, look at me.” Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’m not gonna let that asshole touch you again. I swear it.”

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“In a few hours, we’ll be headed home. Not only does my place have a state-of-the-art home security system, but it also comes with two bonus Army Special Forces operators, even if one of them is stronger and a better fighter than the other.”

Finally, the briefest smile curved Emma’s lips. “You’d better not let Andi hear you call her weaker than you. She’ll kick your ass into next week.”

“Oh, sister dear, I was talking about my wife. You know she’s the stronger of us.”

Sure, he could bench press more than his wife, but strength was about more than physical ability. Andi was hella smart and had a way of fighting and using her strength to her advantage. When they grappled, their win-loss ratio was evenly split—aaaand that was his ego talking. She beat him more than he beat her, but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

Awareness tickled the back of his neck, making the hairs stand on end. Preston straightened, turning and scanning the area, his combat training kicking in and taking control. He wasn’t sure what triggered the reaction, but after more combat missions than he wanted to count—or remember—he’d learned to trust his instincts and listen to them.

“What is it?” Ems stepped close, all but crawling inside of him.

With his non-dominant arm, he tucked his sister behind him, positioning her between him and the rental truck. His right hand moved instinctively to the sidearm strapped to his hip. Everything slowed to a crawl, as if someone had adjusted the time base of reality, and he scanned the shadows of the parking lot. Everything was too still. Even the urban jungle froze in fear of a monster. Preston might not see his old man, but he knew the bastard was out there.

“Listen carefully, Ems,” Preston whispered, freeing his sidearm. “When I say go, run inside with Andi and call the police.”

The second the words left his mouth, the sharp bang, bang of gunfire ripped through the Tennessee night, and hot steel slammed into the truck beside them. Preston threw himself onto his sister, pushing her to the ground as his head snapped back and everything faded to black.

Pain brought him back to reality. The world spun, his thoughts a tornado hell bent on destroying him from the inside out, and nausea wasn’t far behind. He swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and fought to control his breathing. He hadn’t vomited since that time he got wasted in Ireland, and that was not a streak he wanted to see end.

“Just keep breathing, Mr. Morgan. You’re safe now,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “That’s it, just keep breathing. We’ve given you some pain and nausea meds. You should start feeling them soon.”

Meds? What the hell? He was in the hospital?

He searched his memories, but everything was blurry and out of focus, like looking at a TV with a poor signal.

“Where—” But Preston’s question got lost in the cotton field that seemed to have grown on his tongue.

“You’re at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Houston,” the man said. “Here, have a drink of water and get your bearings. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

When the cool plastic of a straw touched his lips, Preston drew deeply. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so refreshing and wonderful in his life.

“Just keep breathing,” the man said, “and tell me the last thing you remember.”

“Weapon’s fire and lots of shouting.” Afghanistan maybe? Yes, no. He couldn’t remember exactly, but he noted sand, lots and lots of sand.

And blood.

Yes, he’d been on a mission. That was it. His team had been sent in to take out a high-level Taliban leader. Had they been ambushed? If so, that would explain the gunfire. And if they’d been ambushed, this could be a trick, a drug-fueled interrogation.

Preston forced his eyes open, but the room spun. He fought the dizziness until he could focus on the lone figure in the room. He sized up the other man, like he’d do on any standard field op.

The man was olive-skinned, but not Middle Eastern. If Preston had to guess, he’d say Central or Latin America. The man’s suit exuded wealth; the material had almost a sheen to it. So there was money involved in whatever was going on, lots of it. Black hair fell to the suit’s shoulders. His seated position was easy and nonthreatening. Still, Preston wouldn’t take anything about this situation for granted.

“Who are you, and what am I doing here?” Preston asked.

“My name’s Noah Whitlow, and as I said, you’re at St. Joseph’s Hospital. I built this hospital wing for you.”

To Preston’s way of thinking, that screamed drug-enhanced interrogation. “You built this hospital wing for me? Bull. Who are you working for? And where is my team?”

“I’m not working for anyone, Mr. Morgan.”

“Yeah, and I’m a space alien.” Preston’s voice rose with each syllable, growing louder and more clipped. “Who are you working for and where is my team?

“Mr. Morgan, please calm down. The procedure performed on you was delicate. If you become combative, I will have to sedate you again.”

“Again?” The heart rate monitor betrayed Preston’s mounting anxiety. “How many times have you done this to me?”

“Just once. A few hours ago. You didn’t handle what you were told, which is why I’m here alone this time.”

“What was I told?” The smallest tickle of remembrance teased his spine. Blurry figures. Panic. Fear. Denial. And something else he couldn’t place, but everything was too jumbled to pull together. “What are you talking about?”

“You lashed out and accidentally hurt someone very important to both of us, and if you hurt her again, I will not hesitate to do whatever I need to do to protect her—as you also would do. Your drive to protect her is, after all, how you ended up being injured.”

“What’re you talking about? The only woman I’d—” Anxiety flashed to fear, and Preston swung his legs from the bed, ready to tear the world apart to get to Emma. “What the hell have you done to my sister?”

The suit held his hands up, palms facing Preston. “I have done nothing sinister to your sister. You have my word on that. You’re the one who hurt her.”

“Ems? No. There’s no way I’d ever hurt my sister.”

Preston ran his hands over his head, a habitual gesture when he was frustrated. When had his hair gotten so long? It felt as if he hadn’t cut it since—

He speared the suit with a glare. “How long have I been here?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions?” The suit smiled cordially as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Morgan?”

Although Preston wasn’t one hundred percent sure the suit was on the level, he nodded. He’d been well-trained by his government, so he was damn well capable of interrogating while being interrogated. He’d just tweak some details. No point in telling them the true mission he was on. Not yet anyway. He’d just pull out a mission that had happened a few weeks earlier and halfway around the world.

“My team was out on a mission. South America, I think. I remember the jungle, and diving for cover right next to this big-ass snake. One of my teammates caught it around the head and held on to it as an enemy patrol walked by, keeping it from biting me in the face, even as it began wrapping around her body.”

He kept her name to himself because he still wasn’t sure this wasn’t a trap. He wouldn’t give up any of his team, especially her. His best friend, JJ, would kill him if he did; the man had a mad crush on Andrea Cole.

The suit nodded, and his forehead scrunched as if he were thinking about his next question—or possibly listening to someone Preston couldn’t hear.

Wait! Was the suit wearing a wire?

The other man refocused on Preston. “Mr. Morgan, that mission was nearly ten years ago.”

The man she loved just ripped her heart out.

Standing in an observation room, watching and listening as Noah Whitlow dropped a bombshell on her husband, Andrea Cole dug her fingernails into her palms. It didn’t matter, she told herself. So Preston had a gap in his memory. Things were still early in his recovery. The doctor had warned her this could happen, but being prepared didn’t lesson the blow.

“He doesn’t remember me,” Andi said. “Us, I mean. He doesn’t remember us.”

He remembered her as his teammate only. She’d been the one to grab the snake before it had struck. The move had been purely instinctual. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. She’d simply reacted. And the look on his face had been priceless.

“It’s too soon to know that for sure,” her sister-in-law and best friend, Emma Whitlow, said. “Remember, it could take a while for the nanobots to repair all the damage.”

Andi knew that. The doctors had gone over the possibility with her, but knowing it was possible didn’t lessen the pain.

The man she loved did not remember them.

“Mrs. Whitlow is correct,” Dr. Nikolas Vassos said, his words accented with the cadence of his homeland of Greece. Dr. Vassos was the finest neurosurgeon in the world. He had both an MD and a PhD in medical technology, which was why they’d tapped him to head this phase of Whitlow Group’s nano-tech trials.

“When will we know for sure if the procedure is successful?” Emma asked.

The doctor furrowed his brow. “If Mr. Morgan can begin retaining memories again, then I will look at the procedure as a success. As for the memories he’s currently missing, that’s an unknown.”

“So his memories could come back?” Emma asked, hope brightening her voice.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Remember, we’re in uncharted territory here. We’re not even certain these nanobots can do all we hope they can.” Dr. Vassos picked something from his lab coat. “For the time being, before anyone fills in the blanks for him, it would be best to see what your husband remembers on his own.”

“Absolutely not.” The words leaped from Andi’s mouth more forcefully than she’d intended. “We’re married. We have a child for crying out loud. This is information he needs to know, whether or not he accepts it.”

“I’m not suggesting you keep this from him indefinitely,” the doctor said. “I’m just saying we give him time to adjust first before you cram ten years’ worth of memories into his head.”

“How much time are you talking?” Andi asked.

“Give him a month,” the doctor said. “Let him attempt to remember on his own. After that, if the memories haven’t returned, then start telling him. Slowly.”

Six years earlier, while protecting his sister, a bullet had lodged in Preston’s hippocampus, leaving him unable to keep recent memories. The damage had also caused behavioral issues like aggression and violence. As a result, they’d placed him in a psychiatric institution. In all the ways that mattered, Andi had lost her husband that night, but then Emma had told Andi about an experimental nanochip her husband’s company was working on. Hope had been a cruel companion ever since, taunting and teasing Andi with the possibility of a future, both for them and the child they’d created just before the shooting.

As Emma peppered the doctor with more questions, Andi rested her head on the glass partition separating her from her husband. Another month without him after basically six years apart? She could do that. How much could one more month with a hole in her heart really hurt her?

The question brought a fresh wave of heartache. She could endure this. She would endure this. She was strong enough. But how in the world was she supposed to go home and tell their son that his father didn’t remember him?

“Things between Preston and me didn’t develop until years after that mission,” Andi said once she and Emma were alone. “We were barely friends at this point, Ems. I’m pretty sure he hated me.”

And for good reason. Andi hadn’t exactly been easy to like back then. She could admit that now. Not only had she been a woman in a male-dominated field, but she’d been a black woman at that. She’d had a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder and a thirst to prove to not only herself but her teammates that she’d earned her appointment to one of the military’s most elite teams, and she had. She’d been a damn good soldier, but the death of a teammate had changed the course of hers and Preston’s lives.

The course of Andi’s life had changed again outside a Tennessee apartment complex. Like they so often did, memories of that night ambushed her. If only she’d have made it outside a few seconds earlier, she might have been able to save her husband from his father. She’d just stepped outside when the first bullet rang out. She’d rushed over, her weapon drawn, but she’d only arrived in time to put two bullets into the monster.

In the purest sense, she’d saved her husband’s life and the life of the woman who would eventually become her best friend, but in all the ways that mattered, the man she’d married and fallen in love with had died that day.

“What if he doesn’t remember us, Ems?” Andi asked.

“He will love you no matter the circumstances.”

“But what if he doesn’t? And what if we can’t recreate the spark that initially pulled us together? What if he only sees the brash, needs-to-prove-myself woman I’d once been?”

“He will, Andi.” Emma planted her hands on Andi’s shoulders and tugged until they faced each other. “I have faith in love.”

“Spoken like a true newlywed.” Andi didn’t mean for the words to come out laced with anger, but her system was a mess of emotions. “God, Ems, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I know.” Her friend pulled her into a hug. “I also know, with everything I am, that yours and Preston’s love is magical. You tamed the man who said marriage was a trap, the man who’d said only stupid people tied themselves down to one person for the rest of their lives. And yet, he fell head over heels for you. He would drone on and on about you whenever he’d call home, so much so that I really didn’t like you at first.”

That drew a chuckle, and Andi squeezed her friend. Leave it to Emma to know the right thing to say.

“Just don’t give up on him,” Emma murmured.

“I won’t. I love him, Ems.”

Even if he couldn’t remember them.

Releasing January 2023