Chapter 1 #2
Avery was back in the warehouse where the syndicate staged product prior to shipment.
Though her senses were on high alert, she pretended it was just another day running stolen artwork and laundering massive amounts of cash.
She glanced at her watch. T-minus three minutes.
Her body stiffened, her muscles bunching, ready to react as soon as the combined FBI, CIA and Interpol team breached the doors and brought the entire operation down.
The culmination of two years of work, infiltrating, gaining their trust, and they would finally bring the key players to justice.
A loud boom sounded, blowing the overhead doors inward. Bright lights knifed through the darkness, blinding her.
“Hey,” a soft, feminine voice spoke softly. “I think she’s coming around.”
“Miss,” a man said as if from the other end of a long tunnel. “If you can hear me, open your eyes.”
Avery tried to do as he said, her eyelids like heavy doors, refusing to open. “Can’t,” she whispered.
“You can do it,” the woman said. “Just try.”
Avery focused on her eyelids, pushing every ounce of strength and awareness into that one small movement. Her eyelids fluttered and then slowly raised.
Bright lights assaulted her. She cried out and raised her arms to shield her face from the oncoming vehicle racing toward her like a freight train.
Hands touched hers and brought her arms back to her sides. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Squinting through narrowed eyes, she looked up into the face of a woman who had her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and wore gray scrubs with a stethoscope looped around her neck. A nurse? Or doctor?
“What—” Avery blinked, easing her eyes open wider, letting a little more of the glaring light in. Not a vehicle or a freight train, but a fluorescent light fixture attached to a ceiling. “Where—”
“You were in an accident and suffered a concussion. The first responders brought you here to the Baylor Scott & White Hillcrest Medical Center three days ago.”
Her brow pinched, causing a dull ache to reverberate through her skull. “Say again? She raised her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “How many days?” she asked, her voice stronger, but sounding like she had a handful of gravel in her throat.
“Three days.” The nurse patted her arm. “The doctor was ready to send you to a neurosurgeon in Dallas today if you didn’t wake on your own.” She smiled. “Looks like he won’t have to, as long as you check out okay.”
Three days? She’d been out for three days?
“The EMTs couldn’t find any identification on you. Can you tell me your name?”
“Sofia Delgado,” she responded. As soon as the name left her mouth, she frowned. Was that right? Was that her name? Closing her eyes, she searched her memory for the answer. When no other name came to mind, she shrugged. Sofia sounded right.
Then again, it didn’t.
“Sofia, is there anyone we can call to let them know you’re okay?” the nurse asked.
“Grant Hayes,” she said, again, without thinking, like the name had been hardwired into her muscle memory.
“Next of kin?” the nurse asked.
“Husband.” Sofia leaned back against the pillow and drew in a deep breath, hoping it would clear her head. It did...marginally, but not completely.
“Would you happen to remember his phone number?”
Sofia nodded and recited it, having memorized it years earlier.
“I’ll call him and let him know where you are.”
“Tell him to come get me,” Sofia said. “I’m late for work.”
“The doctor might have something to say about that,” the nurse warned as she left the room. Over her shoulder, she called out, “I’ll let you know what I hear from your husband.”
“Thank you,” Sofia closed her eyes, wondering if she’d open them again sooner or later. Three days? She’d landed in a Waco hospital, having lost three days of her life to an accident. “Where was I going?” she whispered as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Moments, maybe hours later—she had no idea—a voice sounded, “Avery?”
She forced her eyes open and stared up into the moss green eyes of her husband, Grant Hayes.
Tears welled and leaked out of the corners of her eyes, dropping onto the pillowcase. “Grant,” she whispered, the word catching on a sob.
He leaned over the bed, gently gathered her in his arms and held her, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the hospital room.
The nurse who had been in her room earlier entered the room behind Grant. “I take it you two know each other?” Her words were light, but her eyes were narrowed slightly. “This is your husband, right? The man you had me call?”
Grant straightened, clasping her hand in his. He didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced down at her and waited for her to respond to the nurse.
“Yes, of course. This is Grant Hayes.” She smiled up at him. “My husband.”
“Good to know,” the nurse said, though her eyes remained narrow and her brow puckered. “But he says your name is Avery Hart, not Sofia Delgado. The doctor came by an hour ago to speak to you, but you were asleep. He said your head injury might leave you confused with some memory loss.”
Avery glared at Grant and whispered, “You told her my real name?”
He patted her hand. “Avery is a novelist. Sofia Delgado is her pen name.” Grant turned his back to the nurse and winked at Avery. “She’s working on her first big book deal and has been practicing using her pseudonym. Avery Hart is her legal name.”
“Not Hayes?” The nurse shook her head, the crease that crinkled in her brow easing, a half-smile lifting the corner of her lip. “I see more and more where women aren’t changing their surnames just because they get married. Good on you, Avery. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for your book.”
Avery had tuned out what the nurse was saying to her, focusing more on Grant’s announcement.
My name is Avery? She rolled the name around in her head. The more she did, the more it felt right. It fit like an old shoe or a well-worn pair of jeans. “Avery,” she whispered and gave him a crooked smile.
“Her choice of surnames was never an issue in our marriage,” Grant said softly, his gaze sweeping over her, gentle and concerned.
She squeezed his hand. “I probably would’ve changed my name if you’d wanted me to.”
“I never asked you to change your name because I fell in love with who you are, not your name.”
The nurse heaved a dreamy sigh. “He’s a keeper.
” She fluffed Avery’s pillow and smiled down at her.
“I’ll get you a cup of ice water. I’ve ordered a meal to be sent up.
You’ve had nothing but IVs while you were out.
Oh, and the doctor said he’d be by within the next hour.
” The nurse left the room, letting the door swing closed behind her.
Avery’s gaze followed the woman until she disappeared. Then she glanced up at Grant, a frown forming. “You know I don’t like hospitals.”
He nodded. “Sometimes, they’re a necessary evil. Not that the doctors and nurses are bad. But you’ve been in a car accident and have been unconscious for three days. You might want to take advantage of the care until they’re certain there are no lasting effects.”
Avery shook her head. “I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.
” She tried to remember why she’d been on the road and where she’d been going before she’d lost three days of her life.
“I was on my way to work when the accident occurred. From what the nurse tells me, I’m now four days late.
” Avery shook her head. “They must think I’ve ditched them or something. ”
“Where were you headed?” Grant asked.
Avery frowned and tried hard to focus on the answer. “I know the answer. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite force it free.”
Grant lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “Give it time. Head injuries can be tricky. You might have more gaps in your memory than you think.”
“I remembered you immediately,” she said and brought his hand to her cheek. “I could never forget you.”
Instead of smiling down at her, Grant’s brow furrowed. “Do you remember who you work for?”
She nodded. “The FBI.” Avery frowned and glanced over Grant’s shoulder toward the closed door. “Only I’m undercover,” she glanced up at Grant, “in Florida.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why am I in Texas?”
Grant’s hand tightened around hers. “Head injury. The Florida job ended when you helped put away major players in a crime syndicate.”
The dream she’d had right before waking flashed through her mind. It hadn’t been a dream so much as a memory. “That’s right. I remember.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and winced.
“I’d be careful there,” Grant caught her other hand in his and drew it away from her face. “You’ve got a goose egg of a knot on your forehead.”
“I must look a mess.” She pulled her hand from his and tried to run it through her hair, only to get caught in the tangles. “Seriously. I need a shower and a hairbrush.”
“Do you remember why you were in Texas?” Grant asked.
Avery lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, the act of trying to pull memories out of her rattled brain making her head ache.
“It’s hazy, but I think I was transferred to San Antonio.
” She opened her eyes and smiled. “I was. My new supervisor’s name is Paul.
” She frowned. “I don’t remember his last name, but I’m sure it’ll come back.
” She stared at the far corner of the room.
“Fletcher.” With a grin, she nodded. “Paul Fletcher. And he was leaving for his honeymoon.”
“If you were transferred to San Antonio, why were you near Waco? Were you on your way to San Antonio?”
“I don’t remember,” she said. “Just tell me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“But surely, I wouldn’t have gone off without letting you know where.”
Grant didn’t respond. His silence drew Avery’s attention to his lips pressed into a tight line.
The truth and memory of her last time with Grant rushed back into her head like a red-hot poker, the pain as real and searing as it had been nearly two years ago.
“Oh, hell.” She sucked in a breath, the blood rushing from her head as she pressed a fist to her mouth. “You don’t know because we’re divorced.”