The Midnight Hour (24 page)

"Yes." She inhaled deeply and gazed intensely into his eyes. "The reason you didn't know is because she couldn't tell you, and-"

"No!" Drake jumped out of his chair, turning it over in the process. The crash sounded loud when it hit the floor. He put up his hand to stop any further words Tori was about to say. "I don't know where the hell you got your information, lady, but I don't believe any of it. I was there. After I came back around, I saw that warehouse. I read the reports. I saw-"

"What you didn't see," she said, standing and cutting off his words, "was Sandy's body because there wasn't one, Drake. She didn't die. She survived and under tight security she was rushed to a hospital and provided top-priority medical treatment."

Drake shook his head, still refusing to believe any of what she was saying. "No, that's not true. Don't you think that I would have known if Sandy would have survived? She was my fiancee! We were to be married in six months. There's no way in hell she would have lived and not contacted me to let me know she was alive, so you can shut the hell up about it," he said, anger consuming him, clawing at his insides. He was again reliving the anguish he'd suffered knowing he had lost the one woman who had meant everything to him. Just thinking about that time and what he'd gone through made his hands suddenly feel numb. His entire body felt paralyzed as he remembered the grief that had forced him into their grips.

He glared at Tori. "And what makes you think that you know so damn much about it anyway? How dare you stand here and tell me Sandy didn't die like you're an expert on what happened? What kind of sick game are you trying to play?"

Tori didn't say anything for a few moments, and then she lifted her chin and met his stony glare, the hostility she saw in his eyes. "Who I am makes me an expert, Drake. I can stand here and tell you that Sandy didn't die because I know that she didn't. And the reason I know is because," she took a deep breath, then said, "Because I am Sandy."

Moving beyond the shock that immediately covered his face, she continued. "I am the woman you made love to the night before the explosion; the one you sneaked off with into the woods to lie with next to that stream. I'm the woman who you convinced that night not to wait another year to marry but to move the date up and marry in six months."

Tori blinked back tears. "I'm also the woman you told that night that you wanted our first son to be named Deke, after your father, and for our daughter to be named Savannah, after your grandmother. I'm the one, Drake."

She watched him suck air into his lungs as if he needed to relieve some of the pressure overtaking him by breathing. He was remembering that night, every detail, and knew everything she had just said was true. "No," he said, barely getting the word out, taking a step back, as if her claim was too much to bear and he needed distance between them. "You aren't Sandy. You can't be. There's no way."

She shook her head sadly. "Although I don't look like her, I am. There's a lot that's happened and there was a good reason I couldn't tell you the truth. But more than anything, Drake, you have to know that I am Sandy. That's why you felt so many similarities between us. Because of the extent of my injuries, I had to have plastic surgery over more than eighty percent of my body, which is the reason I don't look the same. And Hawk decided that I needed a new identity. When I got better he insisted that I go into the Witness Protection Program since Solomon Cross was still on the loose, but I refused. After begging and pleading, he finally gave in and agreed to let me work for the Agency. You hadn't begun working there at the time so there was no chance our paths would cross."

The force of Drake's glare nailed her to the spot where she was standing, and she knew what she was saying was finally sinking in as he was trying to make sense of everything she was telling him.

"You survived that explosion and didn't tell me? Didn't want me to know?" he snarled, like a wounded animal. "You let me go through those five years believing that I had lost you? How could you do that to me?" he asked, in a voice so incredulous with pain, Tori had to blink back more tears. "The Sandy that I loved would not have done that to me," he added.

"Oh, yes, she would have if it meant keeping you safe," Tori said through clenched teeth. "Don't you see that I had to do it, Drake? Solomon Cross was a psychopath. Had he known he'd failed to carry out what he thought was the ultimate revenge against you, and that I was still alive, he would have tried again and his second attempt may have cost you your life. I couldn't let that happen."

Fury ignited Drake's features. "Who the hell made you God?" he shouted, staring at her. Nothing about her looked like Sandy, but he knew about the similarities she'd mentioned. He'd felt them. Experienced them. He'd thought at one time he'd been about to lose his mind, especially when he had made love to her. And all this time…

Rage consumed him; tore into him and his mind seemed to snap when he remembered the hurt, the pain, and the anguish. "Damn you, how could you do that to me!"

Tori flinched like she had been struck and anger consumed her as well. It overtook her mind and ripped through her senses. "Damn you back, you selfish bastard!" she shouted, tightly wound and springing into action with his words-words that had been like a knife cutting into her. "Do you think you're the only one who suffered those five years, Drake Warren? I went through several painful surgeries, at times just barely holding on to my life. I awoke from a coma only to be told I had a new identity and the man I loved more than life itself, could never know that I was still alive. Do you know how hard it's been for me these past five years? You're not the only one who was hurting. But for me things didn't end there. I had to live looking over my shoulder and stay in constant fear that one day Cross would find out the truth and retaliate. Then there were those reports I would hear about you acting like a jackass and playing Russian roulette with your life. Don't you know the risk I took defying Hawk's orders and going to that hospital to see you eight months ago? Do you know what-"

"You?" he asked, cutting into her words, clearly stunned. "You were the woman who came into my hospital room? The woman Ashton actually saw?" The question was asked in an unbelieving quiet tone.

"Yes," she snapped. "And I'd do it again if it means keeping you alive, but I won't let you stand here and make it seem like you were the only victim in this. Damn you, I was hurting, too."

Drake sucked oxygen into his lungs, refusing to believe that any of this was happening. He was in some type of a dream, worse yet, some friggin' nightmare. When he woke up everything around him, including his life, would be back to normal-at least as normal as he'd known it for the last five years. But all he had to do was stare at the woman glaring at him to know that was not the case.

He couldn't think rationally. Hell, he couldn't think at all. He was a man who was forever galvanized for action, and his body was radiating with anger of the worst kind. The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. He needed to think. He needed to come to terms with what Tori had just told him. He needed to beat the hell of out something, kick somebody's ass, break someone's bones, or better yet, bury a body alive.

He needed to get the hell out of there.

He inhaled sharply, turned abruptly, crossed the room and walked out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him.

Tori watched him leave and, unsure of the strength of her legs, she made it to the chair and sat down. She knew that in time she would feel calm again but for now, her body was wired, coiled tight, filled with anger. For five years she had been her own tower of strength, her own voice of reason, her own source of sanity. But now, tonight, at that very moment, she felt alone* weak, forsaken.

As tears fell from her eyes, she dropped her head onto her arms and cried.

Trevor Grant and Ashton Sinclair.

The two names were on the Red Hunter's list as friends of Warren. Friends who would eventually lead him to Warren and Green. He sat in a rental car, parked at the curve on a residential street of beautiful, stately homes. A couple of times a few joggers had come by, given him a curious glance, but had kept moving.

Damn. People were so leery these days but he could understand why with the way sickies were snatching up kids and all. He didn't like sitting and waiting for Sinclair to come home but had no choice. He breathed a sigh of relief minutes later as he watched Ashton Sinclair pull into his driveway. Since he hadn't driven into the garage to park, it stood to reason that the man planned to go back out again later, so he needed to act quickly.

As soon as Sinclair went into the house, the Red Hunter eased his car forward, glad it had turned night and that the illumination from the streetlights wasn't directly on him. Moving quickly, he got out of the car and attached a small transmitter underneath the side of Sinclair's truck. Getting back into his car he quickly drove off, satisfied with what he had accomplished and totally convinced that in due time, Sinclair would lead him straight to his prey.

Sandy was alive.

Drake was sure he had walked the circumference of Trevor's property and he was still consumed with anger and filled with disbelief, although deep down he knew Tori's claim was true. There had been something about her that had pulled him in to her from the first. That day he had sat in the coffee shop and watched her walk in, he had felt some sort of an affinity to her, a connection.

Tori Green was Sandy.

He shook his head. In some ways she was Sandy and in other ways she was not. He frowned, knowing that it didn't make sense, but it was something he needed to accept and somehow get beyond the anger and betrayal that he felt. He knew all that should matter was that she was alive and hadn't died in that explosion but for some reason he couldn't accept that Tori was Sandy. The only two people who knew about their secret rendezvous the night before were him and Sandy. No other person had known they had made love by the stream, the conversations they'd shared and the promises they'd made.

For five years she had been alive and hadn 't told him.

She claimed she had done it to protect him. He hadn't needed her to protect him, dammit! Drake Warren could take care of himself. He could have protected them both. And even if they'd had to go into the Witness Protection Program for a while, he would have made do as long as the two of them were together. How dare she decide his future for him.

And she'd insinuated that it had been Hawk's decision, one she had meekly followed. Drake inhaled deeply. Of course it had been Hawk's decision, and Drake could very well see him almost single-handedly pulling things off. The man was well respected for being fair, honest, and above-board. The top brass, the upper honchos in the executive office-all the way up to the president-respected him, admired his integrity and had basically let him run his own show. No one had been surprised last year when he'd been offered the job of deputy director of the CIA, which would have placed him in a position to exercise the powers of the director when the director's position was vacant or in the director's absence or disability. And those who also knew him hadn't been surprised when he had turned the position down, deciding to retire after serving his country for over thirty years, first as a marine then as operations chief in the CIA, in charge of international organized crime as well as arms-control intelligence.

Drake sighed deeply, wondering who else had known about Tori being Sandy. Had Trevor and Ashton known? He shook his head, knowing that wasn't the case. There was a chance Ashton knew now, after seeing Tori today and putting two and two together; but Drake believed that like him, neither man had had a clue. Sandy had been their friend and they had also mourned her death.

Her death.

Now that was a laugh since Sandy hadn't actually died.

He continued walking, too mad to think straight. Then there was the reality that a seriously crazy bastard was after them. Had all Hawk and Tori's carefully laid plans been for nothing since it seemed that Cross had found out she was alive anyway? There were questions he needed to ask, answers he had to have straight in his mind; but at the moment he needed to be alone. He had to be alone.

Tori lay in bed. When she head the sound of Drake returning she glanced over at the clock. He'd been gone for two solid hours. The agent in her had to be sure it was Drake returning and not an intruder. Grabbing her pistol off the nightstand, she flicked off the safety and eased out of bed. Making her way to the door, she slowly opened it.

From the light shining in the hallway from the kitchen, she could see that it was Drake. She lowered her gun the exact moment he turned and saw her. Their gazes met for the longest time and then he turned back around to gaze out the window. "It's me, so you can go back to bed."

Outwardly, Tori tried not to react to Drake's harsh tone but she did. He was still pissed. But then, so was she.

She drew in a deep breath and smelled his scent from across the room. He was sweaty, hot, musky. He had been engaged in some sort of physical activity. What? Sparring with the devil, she thought as a smile eased on her lips. He was an ace at martial arts. Had he been outside working out, doing a lot of his maneuvers, trying to rid the anger within him? Drake was a unique human being whenever his anger combined with high adrenaline. And if you threw in a dose of sexual frustration, that particular part of him between his legs would swell to gigantic proportion and deliver the best lovemaking possible-as good as it could get.

That thought took over her mind as she stood there, her breasts rising and falling with every breath she took; the area between her legs suddenly feeling hot, wet.

Without saying anything to him, she slipped back into her room and closed the door. Now was not the time for her hormones to start acting crazy. She had gone five years without sex before that night they had spent together on the ship. She placed the pistol back on the nightstand and eased back into bed. She would just love to beat the crap out of Drake, literally pound some sense into that arrogant head of his.