with a lot less clothing on.
“I can’t believe you’re willing to go on another of these wild-goose chases with me,” she said.
The way he squeezed her hand was getting to be familiar. “I’m off-duty tonight so there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”
Before she could think of something to say to that, he leaned into her and whispered, “I love the way you’re smiling right now. You’ll have to tell me exactly what you’re thinking about later.”
“Okay and now I’m blushing, too.”
“Good.”
Except then he moved stiffly again, pulling the seat belt out from his chest and realigning his hips with a hiss.
“Syn, are you all right—”
“Perfect in every way. So where are we going?”
Jo shook her head, but let it go. Having a conversation with only one person participating was difficult, and clearly, he was in asked-and-answered territory when it came to his discomfort.
God, she hated it, though.
“Well, as you know . . . I’m just so sick of these memory lapses I’ve been having.” She debated about whether or not to tell him about her trip to see her father, but like that was relevant? More to the point, she wondered if there was any way to volunteer the visit for her amnesia. “It’s a long story, but apparently, I came out to this abandoned outlet mall a couple of nights ago. Bill, my friend, talked to me while I was there, and also on my way home, except I have no recollection of leaving my apartment. Driving anywhere. Seeing anything or doing anything.”
“Bill is the one who is mated? Who you work with.”
“Yes. He and his wife just lost a pregnancy.”
Syn’s frown was deep. “For that, I am sorry.”
“Me, too.” Jo leaned into the windshield. “So yeah, I want to come here and check the site out. The turnoff should be right—yup, here we are.”
Heading up a rise in the road, she braced herself for a headache— and sure enough, as she made the final turn and a darkened stretch of one-story shops came into view, the pain hit her right in the frontal lobe.
“You don’t have to do this,” Syn said grimly.
“I have to do something.”
As she let her car roll to a stop, she knew—she knew—she had been here before. Done this before.
“I swear to God,” she muttered, “it’s like someone keeps getting into my brain and stealing things from me.”
“Park your car over there.”
“Where?”
“Behind that lean-to, and make sure you turn it around so it’s headed out. You never know.”
“Oh. Of course.”
As Jo did as he suggested, she decided there were distinct advantages to having a trained killer around.
When they got out of the Golf, she was further impressed by Syn’s direction. Her car wasn’t big, and the lean-to, which was a bus stop that had been Adirondack-ify’d, was the perfect cover for it. No one would know they were here—and he was right. If they needed to get gone in a hurry, all she had to do was put that sewing machine engine in drive and hit the gas.
“So Bill told me he was going to come and meet me here.” She winced and massaged the back of her neck as they started walking. “He was worried about me being all alone. But he never made it out. He said I called him on my way home and told him I hadn’t seen anything. So he turned around and went back to his own house.”
“Have you and he ever been together—”
Jo whipped her head around. “Oh, my God, never. He’s married. And even if he wasn’t, he’s not my type.”
Syn gave a grunt of satisfaction at that and Jo had to smile. Taking his hand, she bumped herself into him. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not.”
“Really?”
“Nah. I always want to tear people limb from limb. It’s exercise, you know.” He pounded his pec with his fist. “Develops the heart muscle, the arms. And plus the satisfaction of destroying an enemy is the best trophy there is.”
He looked down and winked at her.
“You are incorrigible,” she said.
“I don’t know what that word means—” As her boot nailed the lip of the concrete walkway, he easily caught her as she fell forward. “You okay?”
Jo laughed. For no other reason than they were together. “Yup. I am.”
Forcing herself to focus, she stepped over a chain and proceeded forward, looking into the darkened shops as they went down the promenade. Not much to see. Not much left behind. Not much that would have made her think to come for an