The Choice Page 6

  So, why this need to protect her? Maybe it was her genuine honesty and fear and the fact she needed him. When was the last time someone really needed him? If he were candid with himself, he’d admit Elise never did. It was the other way around.

  Sam walked over to her and traced the soft contour of her plump cheek and the outline of her chin, all in a gentle caress that invoked a deep longing dead center in his gut. Her chin wobbled. He could see the hurt in her eyes. It only added to the massive puzzle he found himself entangled with. What was it about this fiery, patient, sweet girl that made him want more? Instincts, not his head, had him opening his arms, and Marcie walked right into them.

  His arms closed around her. She shivered and fisted her hands in his shirt.

  “What do I do now Sam?” Her warm breath whispered against his chest.

  Sam rested his chin on top of her head. Torn by duty as a federal officer and bound by a strange connection to Marcie. A link he understood clearly could jeopardize his career if, in fact, she was involved in something illegal. Except, his inner voice, which saved him time and again from past adversity, was warning him to put aside his black and white sense of duty, and he didn’t know why.

  Jesse cleared his throat and looked away, before he gallantly left the room.

  “One step at a time Marcie and first things first. We need to find out who you are.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jesse, true to his word, arranged with airport security for Sam to watch the surveillance video. Jesse planned to meet them there. First, he needed to check in with his Captain. He had a heavy caseload and not a lot of priority was to be given to a woman robbed. Apparently, those were his bosses’ exact words first thing this morning.

  Marcie, tired from her restless sleep, lay on the sofa, bunching the blanket under her head while Sam walked Jesse out. She told herself; she’d rest her eyes a moment. Except she allowed her mind to still, breathing deeply until an image of a golden autumn forest appeared as she flew over, dusk settling in. Lower now moving through golden leaves until a large owl with great wings and feathers perched on a thick oak branch. A symbol she instinctively knew was death and renewal.

  The scene changed, flashing to full dark and this time she raced down the center of a dirt and gravel road. A full moon and shining stars blazed in the northern sky. Scattered distant lights from nearby rural properties provided a beacon out of the surrounding darkness. Smoky shadows poked her fears and then deepened into the alders trailing both sides of the road. Overwhelming terror gripped her heart, right before an awful, anxious hum sizzled up her spine. She was late and needed to hurry.

  Jogging shorts and a T-shirt were no protection from the cold air pinching her bare skin. She ran on, faster, steadily to a solid rhythm until her chest burned. Stop, slow down, but she couldn’t. Her nerves, her senses, were cranked as if the devil himself was biting at her heels. She was in trouble. And she damn near jumped out of her skin when she caught sight of a golden haired man illuminated under a sparse country street light twenty feet in front of her. She blinked. Where’d he come from? Her heart jerked and slammed against her ribcage when she dug in her heels and stopped.

  The man wore a baby blue down jacket. She took a step farther away, circling around him, drawn back by an obsessive need to look closer. Golden threads weaved through his wavy hair. Something about him dumped a simultaneous wave of fear and peace through her. How is that possible? Unthreatened by his powerful kind stance—yet she was terrified. His hands remained deep in his jacket pocket, an observer standing guard. Her mind worked overtime. Dark thoughts swished faster than she could register. “If I turn and run, can he catch me?”

  He spoke, but his lips didn’t move. “I came to see how you are, if you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine, go away.”

  “No Marcie, I won’t go. I was sent to help you.”

  “Who are you, who sent you?”

  He opened his hand a field of daisies appeared in front of her. “A new cycle awaits you. I’m your guide. You’re on the wrong path Marcie. You’ve turned your back on what’s right, but there’s still time. You’ll soon need to make a choice. Listen and follow where your angels and I take you. Listen, do as we say.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Jerome Standford. I’m watching over you. Powerful prayers from your teacher were heard.”

  He didn’t move, but she did, running again, faster, harder, around the corner. She glanced over her shoulder and froze. The light now gone, and so was he.

  A hand squeezed her arm, her feet, her stomach plummeted in a fifty foot free-fall. A deep frigid scream broke through the icy darkness. Who’s there? Wide eyed she gasped as the sun—the room—and Sam hovered over her.

  “You okay? Another dream?”

  Another dream all right, one she wasn’t ready to share.

  She sat up sinking into the small foam cushion, her vague memory cusped now, somewhere between the illusionary dream state and reality. Beside her, the seat dipped. Sam allowed no space between them as he rubbed her shoulder and then her back. She dropped her head into her hands. What the hell was that? Who’s her teacher? Okay, she was spooked big time. But she still wasn’t going to share this with Sam, not yet.

  “Marcie?” He gently lifted her long wavy hair over her shoulder.

  “I don’t want to talk about it because it’s just plain weird and makes no sense.”

  He dropped his hand and stood up.

  She craned her neck. “I’m not lying or holding some memory back, I just need to digest this bizarre thing. Can you let me do that?”

  “Fair enough, we need to go now anyway. Jesse’s arranged for us to see the security video.”

  * * * *

  It was a short drive in Sam’s blue Camaro and a hurried walk through the newly tiled airport to the security offices at the rear of the terminal. A pale, balding security guard buzzed Sam and Marcie in through a secured white door, which led down a sterile long hall to a small windowless room. Professional, high class equipment filled this austere square office. Marcie sat in a dark blue, armless secretary’s chair. Sam’s cell phone rang so he strode outside the heavy steel door to answer it. Bright lighting danced off scads of monitors that captured intrusive scenes of people bustling through the airport.

  She twiddled her thumbs and wondered what it’d be like to be cuffed. Those damn doubts and a sick vibe hummed in her belly. Her lost memory must be filled with something scandalous and illegal. She felt as if her life was spinning out of control, in a direction she couldn’t handle. So really, was it any wonder she expected the worst? Could they arrest her for something she couldn’t remember?

  Sam clapped his hands together when he reappeared. “That was Jesse. He got tied up. He’ll get here as soon as he can.”

  He didn’t so much as glance at Marcie; instead Sam shook the hand of the tall, dark skinned man with linebacker shoulders and lady killer dimples. He wore a diamond studded earring and a well-fitting navy suit. When packaged together with his off-the-charts charisma… Wow.

  “Marcie, this is Dev Hamilton, head of security.

  His eyes held some familiarity with her circumstances, along with well-bred compassion. A sweet touch, when he took her hand and asked, “How’s your head, darling?”

  Mesmerized, she touched her forehead. “It’s fine.”

  He smiled so brilliantly. Marcie warmed from inside out. Then he winked. He’s flirting with me. Her jaw loosened, and she didn’t know if she was incensed because of Sam or flattered. Wisdom won out. She slid her chair closer to Sam. Dev’s attention left her when he leaned down and worked the computer, bringing up the video footage.

  “Jesse and I’ve gone through this a couple times. But I’ll let you have a look before he gets here.”

  Marcie clasped her shaking hands and leaned closer to the screen. Passengers disembarked from an American Airlines flight. Single file, they hustled down a narrow walkway, entering the main t
erminal. It was watching herself move that twisted her heart. There she was with a backpack draped over one shoulder, swinging the other arm, striding behind a woman wearing a dark pantsuit. What was she thinking at that moment? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. She looked confident, but kept dropping her head, rounding her shoulders and looking down. Why? She glanced left, to baggage claim just before a tall man slid in behind her, cutting the strap of her black and red knapsack, snatching it away—all in the blink of an eye. And although she’d swear that was her. She remembered none of it.

  I have to say after watching this footage a few times, questions have been raised in my mind. One, and the most vital, is—I’m absolutely intrigued and dying to know what was in your backpack. Because something’s not quite right; it smells like you were up to no good there, darling.”

  Why didn’t he shove a knife in her heart? It would be kinder than this ugly censure, which pounded self-scorn deeper into every cell of her body. Except he was right, even she had to admit none of this boded well. But, whatever happened to diplomacy? She glanced at Sam, but his eyes remained glued to the replayed image on screen. “Whoa baby, look at that right there.” Sam rose out of his chair pointing at the frozen footage. “He was waiting for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Marcie, you okay babe?” Sam squatted in front of her. His strong comforting hands smoothed over her shoulders. Maybe he thought she’d pass out. Maybe she would. The bile rose in her throat, and the room swayed as if she were now sailing over rough seas.

  “Lean over, head between your knees.” He pushed her head down, his fingers sinking deeper into the firm flesh of her back.

  “What just happened? I’m okay now.” She gripped the chair arms and sat up. None of this made sense. And both men studied her as if she were some weak hysterical woman. That set her blood to boil—because she wasn’t. And for some reason she couldn’t stand to be viewed that way.

  “What happened? You turned as green as the moss on a live oak.” Dev hovered behind Sam, and Sam stayed right in front of her.

  “If either one of you looks at me one more time like that, I swear I’ll…” She didn’t know what she’d do. Those were hurt words spouted in anger because she doubted herself. And to top it off, she felt violated in a way she couldn’t explain.

  “You’ll what? Come on Marcie, we’re not your enemies here. We’re the ones here trying to get some answers.”

  She wanted to cry and wished she could, except something inside of her wouldn’t allow that pathetic despair to surface.

  “Can we watch this again? I want to show you what I saw.” Sam snapped, and Dev shuffled his awkward stance, pretending to ignore them in the tiny space they found themselves crammed.

  Marcie swallowed the lump jammed in her throat, peering awkwardly at Sam. “Yeah, sure.”

  Sam returned to the high back leather chair and Marcie scooted beside him, leaning closer to the monitor.

  Dev replayed the video. “Okay freeze, start right here and look at the guy in the ball cap by the gift shop.” Sam traced the tall, lanky kid’s movement with his finger across the screen. “See there. Now watch how he sees Marcie and follows in behind that other older couple. Whoa, wait a second, did you see that?” Sam shot a swift glance at Dev.

  “Yeah man, that’s Reggie; he’s a baggage claim supervisor.”

  Stunned, Marcie was afraid to breathe as she watched Reggie, an overweight white haired middle-aged man dressed in dark blue pants and a white shirt, walk past the dark sure-footed kid and pass something with his left hand. Delivered with such smooth control, it’d be easy to miss. Next, dark kid stuffed what he was handed into his baggy pants pocket and sidled up behind Marcie. One hand grabbed the strap of her knapsack; the other flicked open a switchblade and sliced through the black strap. He shoved Marcie hard, and she fell forward onto her knees before smacking her head on the unforgiving tile.

  Her head stung just watching the recap. Sam and Dev faced her again. Were they worried she’d pass out? Or maybe it’s her reaction. Was she a victim or somehow involved with her attacker? No one could say for sure. Even she wasn’t naïve enough to deny something wasn’t at play.

  “You okay, babe?” Even with his gruff scratchy appearance, this sexy gentleman destroyed all doubts she had of his credibility. He wouldn’t toss her to the wolves—he wouldn’t abandon her, and he wouldn’t sneak away. And that meant more to her than she could explain. Instead of being comforted by this revelation, she was rattled.

  “Marcie, you okay?”

  She tried to force a smile past the rising lump stuck in her throat. She failed miserably. “Yeah sure, just peachy.”

  “Is that the beginning of some attitude I’m sensing? Under the circumstances Marcie, I’ll cut you some slack. But watch it.”

  Why couldn’t she say thank you? Sam stood between Marcie and Dev and leaned in closer to the screen. What was he looking for? The eyes can fool you; look deeper for your answer. Not all may be as it appears. Her heart beat faster; she looked at both men, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Dev, what’s the story on Reggie?” Marcie couldn’t see Dev’s face; Sam pulled his chair in closer and sat and then swiveled the high back around and blocked her view of Dev. She felt hidden, protected.

  “Come on Dev, what gives? This guy smuggling contraband or is it something else?”

  “Look Sam, I can’t say. Just know we got our eye on him. But I’m curious about something. See here in the video, you right behind your girl before she goes down, watching her. And even when she falls, you pause, but don’t go after the kid that robbed her. Why’s that?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I just got off the plane after busting my butt for months on an operation that was fucked up. I was tired, and there’s a whole bunch of people around, I’m not the only one walking behind her.” Sam waved his hands in the air, no attempt to lower his voice. Marcie could tell the way Sam bunched his shoulders, he was well on his way to being in a piss poor mood. She wondered if Dev was deliberately provoking him.

  Dev crossed his arms and rolled his solid shoulders back. His full mouth tightened so his lips resembled a thin line. “Take a look from my perspective. You walk away from some big undercover operation with the DEA after marijuana’s found stashed in your locker. And from what I understand not a small amount. And that’s after a tip was phoned into the Sheriff. You claim it was planted.” Dev shrugged his shoulders. His sparkling eyes steeled to something hard and accusing. “So Sam, how would it look to you that you just happen to be right behind some babe in my airport, who’s probably carrying something suspicious, add in the one guy who works here, who we suspect is involved in smuggling contraband, and he just happens to pass something to a guy who takes what she has—coincidence? I’m sure you’ll agree there’s no such thing. You have quite a history Sam. Not all of it good.”

  “Whoa, whoa, Jesus Murphy, where are you getting all this bullshit?” Sam stood right in Dev’s face, flexing his fists, his back ramrod straight, as if getting ready to take on a street thug.

  “Back off, Sam. I just happened to find out from Seattle PD when I sent a copy of this video segment to help your girl here find out who she is. Someone recognized you, and the detective I spoke with was quite free with his information. Apparently, you’re a hot topic this month.”

  Uneasy tension rippled. “Time to go, Marcie.”

  She had no time to respond. Sam snatched her hand and pulled her up behind him, hustling her out the door. His arm slid around her shoulder and propelled her forward, one step from a jog. Her sandals flopped on the tile floor down the narrow corridor as she struggled to keep up.

  “Sam, what’s going on? What was that about drugs in your locker? I knew you were a cop, but I didn’t know… Hey, wait a second. Why’d he imply you were following me? Sam, slow down.” This was all wrong. Sam wasn’t supposed to be in trouble. It was her—all her. And that awful man, Dev, trying to turn all thi
s on Sam. “Sam what’s going on, why won’t you answer me?”

  Sam pushed open the security door taking them into the main terminal. “Marcie, we need to get out of here, now. Don’t say anything else until we’re in the car.”

  She caught a glimpse of his hard jaw. He looked around, maybe not conspicuous, but he watched for someone or something as he rushed her along. This wasn’t good.

  Almost at the exit, when two uniformed officers marched through the busy sliding glass door. Sam steered her into a crowded tour group and squeezed out the bank of doors a few yards away. Another NOPD car pulled to the curb, behind a line of cabs. Sam propelled her into a lineup of travelers waiting for cabs and then crossed over to the parking garage.

  “Keep walking, don’t look around.” Marcie clutched Sam’s arm with both hands before she tripped while trying to keep up.

  Sam hurried Marcie to the passenger side of his late model, dark blue Camaro. He opened the door and pushed her in. “Put on your seatbelt.”

  Her hand trembled while she buckled up. Sam yanked open his heavy door and gunned the engine before his door closed.

  He backed out so fast Marcie jolted in her seat. The tires squealed when Sam shifted gears. The speed with which he accelerated pinned Marcie back against the soft leather. She gripped the hard vinyl dashboard and stared through the thick windshield. Sam weaved in and around slower moving vehicles.

  “Sam, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” And she was scared. It wasn’t just the questions surrounding what Marcie carried. Speculation about Sam’s own character and his link to drugs had been dumped right in the middle of this. A dirty cop. Wasn’t that what Dev implied? This wasn’t reasonable, and only now did the implication sink in.