Somewhere I'll Find You (33 page)

Looking around, she caught sight of Erik’s friend, Alistar Carver, standing in the shadowed corner of that same room.  He gave her a warm smile. 
“
I’d been hoping to catch you alone.” He paused as if trying to avoid an awkward moment
, and then plunged in after the information he sought
.  “Have I misunderstood your relationship with Erik?  Can I trust you? What I’m about to tell you is of the greatest confidence.  I wouldn’t impose this information on anyone if I didn’t beli
eve it was for the greater good,
”
he finished, turning his icy eyes down to hers as earnestly as he could possibly manage.

Gesturing for Alistar to join her, Jenny made room for him
on the sofa
.  “I would do anything for Erik.  How can I help?”

The elegantly dressed gentleman looked at the dainty woman staring at him, reminding himself not to allow her to see how much he despised the way men looked at her, loathing the lust he could see on their faces. There was a sweet innocence about her,
something
to which he found himself responding – he could almost imagine her gracing his table at dinner, of the children the two of them could make.  But there was that damned E
rik Fletcher in the way . . . However,
if his plans succeeded, Fletcher would become no more than a faint memory in her past.

When he joined her on the settee, Alistar’s eyes searched hers. 
“You see, my dear, Erik is . . .
Well
,
how can I put it?  He’s what you Yanks call a secret agent.  You see, British Intelligence needs all the help it can get. 
And you, as well as Erik, could be of great use to us, but please understand that many in your country may misunderstand his actions, and may even consider him … undesirable. 
In fact, things that he may be asked to do might even be distasteful.  But all I need from you is your promise that whatever you see or
hear
will never be
spoken of
.”

He left a lengthy pause to underscore his statement, fixing his gaze on her with his cold blue eyes.  “And
I feel obligated to tell you now that
the risk
of such exposure
to both of you could be your very lives.
  Are you still willing to aid us – and, in doing so, protect Erik?”

In the present time,
Paige groaned, twisting helplessly in the sheets.  Trapped in her dreams, she could do no more than watch as the lovers became more entrapped in a tangled web of deceit.

Their last evening in London was spent at a final, lavish banquet
. The sight of Erik in his tuxedo caused her breath to catch in pleasure.  But the tight expression on his handsome face
,
and the small
,
telltale bulge under his
shirt
,
ruined his dashing image.  Quietly pulling
her to him, his dark eyes searched her face as if memorizing her every feature.  “I want you to be very careful tonight.  There are documents I need to find – when I do, I’ll need to pass them to you for safekeeping.
Someone may suspect me, but never
my beautiful lover.
If anything happens, I’m going to need to know that you’re safe.  I have arranged for an old chum, Alex Sinclair to wait outside, and he’ll take you directly to an airstrip.  I know he’ll see you to safety if I don’t make it back.”  Quickly, before she could protest, he pressed a finger gently to her lips.  “If that should happen, Jenny, you must deny our relationship, and drag my name through the mud.  Daniel will be there – the poor fellow has been in love with you for a long time, so . . .” He shrugged, “Jenny, whatever happens, don’t look back.”

Wildly she paced the room, her turquoise gown flowing behind her.  “I don’t know if I can . . .   I know I can’t leave you.”

Gripping her shoulders, Erik stared down into her troubled eyes.  “This is too important for sentiment to get in the way.  I love you and I always will, but Jenny, you can’t look back.”  Sliding her into his arms, he pressed her cheek to his, cursing himself for ever putting her life in danger.

The evening
dragged on, quickly turning into a nightmare for Jenny, the intensity of which only worsened, if that was possible, when she felt Erik slip a slim sheath of papers down the high back of her dress.
  They burned her like a brand
even
as she tried to relax in the safety of his arms.  They danced as intimately as decency allowed, the faint strains of music drifting through the air
, but even that familiar embrace did nothing to calm her shattered nerves
.

“After this dance, go to the car waiting outside,” Erik whispered.  “Wait five minutes, and if I’m not there, you have to leave.”  His dark eyes bore into her
gray
ones, hating the sight of pain and fear etched there.  “I promise you
,
Jenny, I’ll catch up.”

Michael sat staring at the files Alistar had sent, a cold cup of coffee near his hand.  He turned his head to
listen, but silence continued f
r
om the direction of
Paige’s room, allowing him to relax.

The soft vibration of his cell on the bedside table had woke
n
him from a light sleep sometime after dawn,
a fact
for which
he had been mildly thankful;
his dreams had been full of hot, slippery
bodies,
and searing kisses in which he could not participate.  The resulting conversation between the two men had been short, a fax report quickly in his possession.

Massaging his temples, Michael read of the horrible accident that had almost killed Paige, leaving her in a coma that had lasted for months.  The reports were chilling, made even more so by the cold, impersonal language that was used.

Deep trauma.  Unpredictable reaction.  Uncertain prognosis.

Page after pa
ge of clinical reports detailed everything, but explained
nothing.  Th
e conclusion of the medical experts
had been that Paig
e’s recollection of her fall had been
swept bare by a trauma her mind found too terrible to face.

The results, couched in five pages of extremely technical langua
ge, broke it down rather simply:
 
More than likely, Paige would never remember
what happened to her.  Any information surrounding the circumstances of the event was lost forever.

Except in one unlikely condition.

Sitting forward, Michael frowned as he read
the same paragraph
repeatedly, making certain that he understood exactly what he was reading.  If she were to experience another trauma of equal and similar severity, it could restore her memory. 
What in the hell are they suggesting?  They can’t be thinking that she should go out and have another near-death experience just for the hell of it! 
He shook his head at the sick idea. 
But they certainly allude to it – and I think someone might try and take these words and interpret them in a literal sense.

He leaned back, letting his breath out slowly as he tried to reason it out.  Was he paranoid, as Paige so often suggested?  He didn’t think so; too many things meshed together for all
of it
to be a mere coincidence. So, by that token, was this information the reason for the threats against her?  Had someone decided to jolt her memory and trigger the
information
lost in her mind?
  If so, why?  What could be hidden in that brain of hers that was so important that it could risk her life? 

Or were these attempts on her life
nothing more sinister than a pervert’s revenge? 

A candidate for the latter immediately came to mind, for Paige’s last meeting with Richard Severance had not gone well.  Michael hadn’t trusted him from the beginning.  But then, she was well known in the rarefied atmosphere of Hollywood. Could one of those smooth, tanned f
aces with which she surrounded herself
be hiding some bitter jealousy that could lead to murder?  There were just too many damned questions, he thought viciously, jerking his hands through his hair as he moved to his feet.

Grimly, he checked the entrance once more, and then the alarms, although he knew them to be in perfect order.  After that, he made his way to a room that drew him
with its scent of roses perfuming
the air.  Paige lay sleeping, her hands flung out while her dark hair pooled against her pillow. 

Moving closer, Michael felt faintly guilty for spying on her, yet he was unable to stay away.  He watched as she suddenly twisted in her sleep, shoving at the sheets, tugging at the blankets.  Backing away, he softly shut the door behind him, his thoughts on so many other bedrooms
he had left over the years. 

How strange that I should have so many memories that I would rather forget,
he mused, leaning against the closed door. 
How strange, indeed, when Paige has so few …
Silently, he moved down the hall; when his cellphone buzzed into his thoughts, his answer was curt.

  Another of his contacts from London was calling, and the news was grim.

“You asked for information about Paige O’Neal and about t
he chap that she almost married,
” the
voice,
informed him, skipping over the preliminaries.
 
“
Well, I’ve got something for you.  Allegedly, he poisoned someone’s wine, and panicked when he realized he was caught at it.  He’s now sitting in Los Angeles County Hospital, under a suicide watch.”  Harsh crackling on the phone broke up the next set of words before the line cleared.  “The whole of the story is that we got a call about a murder – a high profile cabinet member recently seen in Severance’s company.  The cabinet member was found slumped in his study, a glass of wine still on his desk.  There was nothing to indicate suicide, and of course, the boys had a field day going over the room.  When the results from the wine came back, the found he’d ingested curare with an admixture of pepper.  Goes through the system faster that way, they said, although it’s a damned clever way to commit murder.”

Taking a deep breath, Michael held tightly on his barely controlled anger.  “A damned sophisticated mixture for an amateur.  How did they trace it back to Severance?”