# Prince Incognito

Rachelle McCalla

Riveting romantic suspense to set your heart racing! Heroic and courageous characters battle against danger and face challenges to their faith… and to their lives.A PRINCE WITH NO MEMORY Injured in an attack on the royal motorcade and missing his memories, Alec has one person he can trust. Lillian Bardici, the woman who rescued him. Lily has a soft heart for any hurt creature, but her family has a bitter grudge against Lydia’s ruling family—Alec’s family.For once his memory returns, Alec knows the truth. He is Prince Alexander, and his family is in danger. All he wants is to find and help them…but now that Alec’s found his purpose, will he lose Lily who’s under orders by her family to betray him? Reclaiming the Crown: Born to rule with faith, honor…and love

A PRINCE WITH NO MEMORY

Injured in an attack on the royal motorcade and missing his memory, Alec has one person he can trust. Lillian Bardici, the woman who rescued him. Lily has a soft heart for any hurt creature, but her family has a bitter grudge against Lydia’s ruling family—Alec’s family. For once his memory returns, Alec knows the truth. He is Prince Alexander, and his family is in danger. All he wants is to find and help them…but now that Alec’s found his purpose, will he lose Lily, who’s under orders by her family to betray him?

Reclaiming the Crown: Born to rule with faith, honor...and love.

Enjoy a special 15th anniversary bonus story from Love Inspired, Family Ever After by Linda Goodnight

“You’ve got to get out of here!”

The scream of another incoming explosive buried Lillian’s words, but thankfully, the blast struck farther away.

The man seemed to find his feet and trotted forward, his expression determined in spite of the blood that marred his face.

“You need to get to a hospital.”

“No.” He stopped, his earnest blue eyes boring into hers. “No hospital. I’ve got to get out of the country. I can’t stay here. It’s not safe.” He took another step forward. “I have to hurry. Don’t let them find me.”

Lillian paused, unsure what she should do. It had always been her nature to help, to bind up injured animals, to rescue the wounded. That’s why she’d gone to veterinary school. But she wavered now, uncertain whether she should try to help, or back off. She said a silent prayer that God would make clear what she was supposed to do.

Again the soldier’s eyes met hers. “Help.”

RACHELLE McCALLA

is a mild-mannered housewife, and the toughest she ever has to get is when she’s trying to keep her four kids quiet in church. Though she often gets in over her head, as her characters do, and has to find a way out, her adventures have more to do with sorting out the carpool and providing food for the potluck. She’s never been arrested, gotten in a fistfight or been shot at. And she’d like to keep it that way! For recipes, fun background notes on the places and characters in this book and more information on forthcoming titles, visit www.rachellemccalla.com.

Prince Incognito

Rachelle McCalla


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

In 2012 Love Inspired Books is proudly celebrating fifteen years of heartwarming inspirational romance! In honor of this special occasion, we’re spotlighting the Love Inspired Suspense series this month.

If you haven’t read a Love Inspired Suspense book before, now is a wonderful time to discover them. Love Inspired Suspense offers gripping suspense, compelling romance and an inspirational message—all within one series. These edge-of-the-seat, contemporary romantic suspense stories feature Christian characters facing challenges to their faith…and to their lives!

We’re excited about our author line-up this month. Look for Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen, the latest book in her exciting miniseries, The Defenders. Terri Reed delivers the dramatic finale to Love Inspired Suspense’s continuity series, Fitzgerald Bay, with The Deputy’s Duty. Rachelle McCalla’s Reclaiming the Crown miniseries continues with Prince Incognito. Susan Sleeman rounds out the month with Double Exposure, the first book in her new miniseries, The Justice Agency.And enjoy a fifteenth anniversary bonus story at the end of each book.

I hope you enjoy each and every story. Look for four new Love Inspired Suspense books every month for the perfect combination of riveting suspense and inspirational romance!

Sincerely,

Tina James

Senior Editor

To Knox, my prince, with love.

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

—Isaiah 30:21

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Acknowledgments

Dear Reader-Author

Questions for Discussion


Family Ever After

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

ONE

His Royal Highness Prince Alexander of Lydia stood at attention in the palace courtyard, his back extra straight, his arms practically immobilized by the stiff sleeves of his dress uniform. The classic-cut olive-green suit was reserved for formal occasions, and Alec hadn’t realized until he’d squeezed into it for this evening’s state dinner just how long it had been since he’d last worn it.

About fifteen pounds of muscle ago, judging by how tight the shirt felt around his neck. He couldn’t take a deep breath, and he felt a tingling sensation in his fingers every time he tried to bend his arms at the elbow. The warm weather of the June evening didn’t help, though Alec was at least accustomed to heat.

His last deployment, a humanitarian mission in the deserts of North Africa, had required daily physical labor. Alec hadn’t appreciated how much the work had transformed him until he’d returned home to Sardis, Lydia’s capital city, the day before and found that none of his old clothes fit the same.

The limousines began to line up for the motorcade, and Alec watched his parents descend the palace steps with the rustle of sashes and silk. His father, His Majesty King Philip, waved Alec away from the head car.

“You’ll be sixth in line.” He pointed him farther down the queue.

“Why sixth? Who’s in between us?” Though Alec didn’t want to sound presumptuous, he was, after all, heir apparent to the throne of Lydia. While that didn’t mean he had to ride in the front car, he certainly found it odd that he’d be placed so far down the line.

“State officials. Regional dignitaries. Guards.”

“Guards?”

“Yes. Guards on motorcycles, guards in every car.” King Philip motioned to a group of gun-bearing men. “You’ll have one riding with you.”

“A bodyguard?” Alec looked down at the young man who’d stepped forward. The kid wasn’t small, but Alec was considerably larger, and he guessed, more experienced. “Father, I’m a soldier. I can take care of myself.”

The king was halfway to his car, but as he looked back, he seemed to notice for the first time that his son had grown, and he deflated a little. “Fine. You can ride alone. But stay close. Stay safe.” The king appeared as though he wanted to say more, but the cars and guards were waiting, and he ducked inside the limo after the queen.

Alec watched the door close after his parents, and their car rolled forward.

What was that all about? Stay close? Stay safe? Alec blinked at the abundance of men who filled the waiting vehicles and perched on their motorcycles, ready to go. Behind him, he spotted his sister Isabelle giving her bodyguard the cold shoulder as he held open the door to her waiting limousine. She’d told Alec that her request to have the guard removed had been turned down by their father.

Something strange was going on. When he’d first arrived home, Alec had assumed everything felt foreign simply because he wasn’t used to it anymore. He’d acclimated to desert life, and no longer felt like he fit in with Lydia’s aristocratic circles. In fact, until the announcement at tonight’s dinner, when his father had promised he’d learn what his next assignment was, Alec didn’t figure he’d feel as though he fit in anywhere.

But all the extra security, as well as his father’s odd behavior, left Alec questioning what was going on. Sure, he was used to men with guns—but there weren’t usually so many of them swarming the palace, were there? And whereas these events of state tended to be stressful for his father, today the king seemed downright jumpy.

Alec slid into his car, but he couldn’t relax, in spite of the sumptuous leather seat of the limousine he was riding in. Too much about the situation bothered him.

Besides that, in a seated position, he could hardly take a breath.

His car crept forward, and Alec strained to see through the darkly tinted windows to the vehicles ahead of him. He hadn’t seen any officials or dignitaries in the courtyard—no one had entered the vehicles ahead of him except for a few guards.

What was going on?

The motorcade progressed down the narrow streets of Sardis. Alec watched warily out the window, trying to sort out what had made his father, usually a self-assured ruler, act so skittish.

Crowds lined the sidewalks and people waved from balconies and open windows as the motorcade passed down the first few blocks. But the farther they went, the thinner the crowds became, and Alec craned his neck up ahead in time to spot uniformed men waving people inside.

More guards? Alec strained to see, but between the distance and the dark glass, he couldn’t recognize their uniforms. Still, they looked like…

Lydian soldiers?

Alec lowered the window to get a better look. Without the sound of cheering crowds, he could hear the Lydian national anthem being projected from a low-fidelity speaker somewhere.

The window glass was a third of the way down when suddenly, it started moving up again.

Alec looked at the driver. Had he closed the window?

Rather than hit the intercom button to ask, Alec opened the door and stuck his head outside. As he squinted at the soldiers, the car slowed to a stop. Now what?

His father never allowed the royal motorcade to come to a complete stop. Had so much changed since Alec had been gone? Before he could sort it out, the uniformed men ahead of him shouted, leaping inside the nearest buildings.

Alec didn’t have long to wonder at their actions. A dissonant, mechanical scream filled the air. Alec ducked behind the open door and pinched his eyes shut as a brilliant flash erupted in front of the motorcade’s head car, its searing light penetrating his closed eyelids with its red glare. The moment it passed, Alec snapped his eyes open, following the grenade’s trajectory upward to its source.

Two blocks ahead, he spotted a soldier on a high balcony, his assault rifle equipped with an under-barrel grenade launcher.

In the time it took the man to reload, Alec sized up the situation. Based on the sound and the blinding flash, he was nearly certain the soldier had shot a stun grenade—a sound- and light-emitting device designed to incapacitate targets by causing immediate but temporary deafness and flash-blindness. The weapon was technically classified as nonlethal, but only when used in an environment free of combustibles.

Given the number of vehicles in the motorcade, and the likelihood they were all carrying full tanks of fuel, the diversion grenade could be plenty lethal. Immediately Alec feared for the safety of his sisters traveling in the limousines behind his.

Before the soldier got his weapon raised again, Alec made his decision. The royal limousines were lightweight-armor plated. For budget reasons, King Philip had never deemed it necessary to commission defensive countermeasures or military-grade armor. The car would offer little protection against a stun grenade—and Alec had no guarantee that’s all the soldier would be shooting. If a fragmentation grenade struck the motorcade, it could kill everyone in a ten-meter radius.

Rather than wait to find out what the soldier had used to reload, Alec sprinted for the cars behind him, where his sisters were. He had to reach them, to help them find cover before the blasts became deadly. Stun grenades were a tactical weapon, often used for clearing the way for the big guns. He might not have much time!

A squeal rent the air above his head an instant before another stun grenade hit the rear of the motorcade, spewing thick smoke for dozens of meters in every direction. Was this what his father had been nervous about? Had the king somehow gotten wind that an attack was being planned? Had the royal family been specifically targeted?

Alec could see no sign of his sisters—he could hardly see the cars through the heavy smoke. He prayed for their safety as he staggered forward, uncertain whether he was even still heading in the right direction, disoriented by the eruptions. Isabelle had been wary of the bodyguard who’d been appointed to protect her, and Stasi… Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seen Stasi.

Another deafening squeal filled the air, the sound tearing at his ears as it approached, closer this time. Alec flung himself backward instinctively, diving away from the eruption, praying for some form of cover.

Heat swelled behind him as he felt the stone of a limestone wall. A building! He turned away from it, pushing himself back into the heat and smoke and chaos. His sisters were back there. He had to reach them. He had to find them!

His ears throbbed, too traumatized to hear, but he felt the vibrations of the next incoming eruption, closer this time, and more powerful. He spun around, bracing himself to run, to dive toward his sisters’ cars, but there was no time. The concussion caught him before his feet hit the ground, propelling him sideways, the shock wave pulsing through him like an electrical fire.

Then all was black, and silent.

The ringing in his ears began slowly, and Alec peeled his face away from the weathered limestone, blinking as his eyes focused on a red smear across the cream-colored stones.

Why was there blood on the stones?

He looked down. Blood splashed against his suit. Where was he? What was happening?

Stumbling forward, he tried to remember.

He’d been attacked, surrounded.

He had to escape.

He had to survive.

* * *

Lillian Bardici turned and ran down the alley for her rented rickshaw as the sound of another blast erupted, nearer this time. Heat from the blast sizzled down the alleyway, swelling past her as she ran. Okay, so maybe watching the royal motorcade pass by hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe she should have listened to her parents, who wanted to set sail earlier in the afternoon. They could have been in the middle of the Mediterranean by now, far from the explosions on the street behind her.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Lily saw a man in an olive soldier’s uniform—different from those of the officers who’d waved her back from the street. He’d barely made it to the opening of the alleyway when another blast struck.

Lily ducked back into the thick stone archway of a limestone doorway. Waves of heat plunged past her, and she caught her breath, praying.

Dear God, help me! Help that soldier!

Her heart pinched at the thought of the handsome man who’d had no chance to escape the blast. As soon as the first swell passed by, Lillian peeked out.

The soldier leaned against the wall, a red streak of blood painting the creamy limestone behind him, marking the place where his face had grated against the wall. He raised his head just as she looked at him, and she saw disorientation in his eyes. He staggered forward a few steps.

Lillian couldn’t leave him. If another blast hit, he’d be done for. She ran forward. “Hurry. You’ve got to get out of here!” The scream of another incoming explosive buried her words, but thankfully, the blast struck farther away. Though it shook the ground beneath them, she felt none of its heat.

The man seemed to find his feet and trotted forward, his expression determined in spite of the blood that marred the left half of his face.

“Can I help you?” Lily asked as he reached her. She stumbled along beside him. “You need to get to a hospital.”

“No.” He stopped, his earnest blue eyes boring into hers. “No hospital. I’ve got to get out of the country. It’s not safe here.” He took another step forward. “Hurry. Don’t let them find me.”

“Don’t let who find you?”

Another distant blast erupted, and the soldier plodded past her, toward her rickshaw that sat at the end of the alley. Lily caught up to him just as he paused next to it.

Again, his eyes met hers. “Help.”

Unsure what he meant, Lily reached for his arm, steadying him as he sagged into the back passenger seat of her tricycle-like rented rickshaw.

She looked at him for only a second, his eyes closed, his body slumped down. From her medical training, Lillian knew the concussive shock waves from explosions could cause tremendous internal injuries, often with no external harm. The damage was likely catching up to him already.

Goaded on by the eruptions behind them, Lily hopped onto the bike and pointed the handlebars downhill. Between the added weight of the soldier behind her and the downward slope of the streets as the city gave way to the sea, she had no trouble getting her bike moving.

The marina was a mere three blocks away, all downhill. Her parents had already said they wanted to cast off that afternoon, but Lillian had begged them to stay long enough for her to watch the motorcade pass by. Her father hadn’t been happy about it, insisting that they should leave before the state dinner. But when she’d pointed out all the other promises he’d broken in the past few weeks, he had reluctantly agreed. She’d promised to return immediately thereafter, and return the rickshaw at the stand at the head of the pier. They could leave immediately.

Since she’d personally run all their errands while they’d been in port in Sardis, renting the bike so she could haul fresh stores of food and water, it had seemed only fair that she be allowed to stay a little longer. And she’d promised they could be gone before the state dinner began.

Now Lillian questioned the wisdom of her decision as the rickshaw picked up speed, careening toward the pier. She laid on the brakes as she blew past the rickshaw rental stand, and just managed to skid to a stop next to her parents’ yacht.

“Lillian!” Her mother, Sandra, gasped when she saw the soldier’s bloody form slumped on the back of her bike.

Her father’s jaw dropped.

But by the time he found his voice to insist that Lily take the soldier right back to where she’d found him, Lillian had already dismounted from the bike. The rail of their yacht bobbed a little higher than the dock, but the bike sat higher still. Lily tipped the rickshaw, and the unconscious soldier keeled toward the cushioned bench that encircled the deck of the yacht.

“Lily, no!” Michael Bardici demanded, rushing forward to stop her, an instant too late.

With a hefty heave, the soldier tumbled gracelessly onto the cushion. Lily hopped onboard after him, rearranging his arms and legs to settle him flat on his back.

“Lily.” Her mother approached, wringing her hands. “Did you see what was going on up there? It’s like a war zone.”

“Mom, please. Can you push the rickshaw back up the pier? We have to get out of town.”

Her mother paused, surprise on her face, then obediently climbed onto the dock and took the bike back up to the rental stand.

Lifting the man’s eyelids to check his pupils for signs of concussion, Lillian listened with one ear to her father’s protests.

“What are you thinking bringing that man onboard? There’s been some sort of violent attack up there, and now you’re getting us mixed up in it. What will your uncle David say?”

Lily focused on her examination and didn’t respond. The man’s pupils were even, with no telltale red streaks that would have indicated his capillaries had burst. A good sign. Hopefully the alleyway had blocked much of the force of the blast, preventing a traumatic concussion. It boded well for the likelihood of minimal internal injuries.

Her father inserted his face in her line of sight. “I know you think you have to rescue every injured creature that crosses your path, but this is going too far. He’s a human being. You can’t take him out of his country—”

“He asked me to take him out of the country.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“Yes.” She checked the soldier’s pulse. Strong. “He specifically asked me to help him, to get him out of the country, and to hurry.”

“Did he say anything else?”

She looked her father full in the face. “Don’t let them find me.”

“Who’s he hiding from?” Michael Bardici sputtered. “Did he have something to do with those explosions? He could be a criminal!”

Before Lily could respond, her mother returned. “Let’s do hurry and get out of here,” Sandra Bardici requested. “There are soldiers with guns everywhere. Whatever those explosions were about, I don’t like it. What if they try to lock down the marina?”

Lily felt grateful her mother had so quickly sized up the situation. “She’s right, Dad. We should get moving. Do you need me to help you get under sail, or can I bandage his face?”

“You should do nothing of the sort,” her father protested. “Surely there’s somewhere in the city.” He looked at Sardis beyond the bay, black smoke rising above the limestone buildings, and his protest lost a little power.

“We should get out of the marina while we still can.” Sandra sounded almost frantic.

“Of course we should go.” Michael Bardici faced his wife. “But we can’t take this man with us! We don’t know anything about him. What if he’s dangerous?”

“He looks to be out cold right now. She’s brought him this far. It’s chaos up there—I suppose the local hospital will be overwhelmed. She’s a trained medical professional.”

“She just graduated from veterinary school.”

Sandra took a step closer to her husband and lowered her voice. “She wants to help. This is the first time she’s wanted to do anything medical since…”

Lily heard her mother’s sentence hang in the air, and knew exactly what words she hadn’t spoken. Since she’d failed to save the horses. The painful memory taunted her, but she pushed it away. Thinking about the tragedy in her past wasn’t going to help her now.

Michael Bardici huffed. “Fine. We’ll set sail. But I’ll warn you both—I intend to get rid of this fellow at the first opportunity.” He stomped over and untied the boat.

“Thank you, Dad.” Lily sprinted into the top-level pilothouse and pulled out the first-aid kit, which she had personally assembled in a small suitcase years before, and kept stocked for emergencies.

The unconscious soldier didn’t flinch as she cleaned the wound on his face. To her relief, the abrasions didn’t appear to be deep, though they stretched from his nose to his ear, covering much of his forehead, down to his chin. Still, if she bandaged his face quickly and kept the injuries clean, he’d likely heal with minimal scarring.

Once she had the blood cleaned off and a fresh white bandage wrapped around his head to hold the gauze and batting in place, she pulled out her otoscope and checked his ears, sighing with relief when she saw no sign of blood.

Excellent. Ears were particularly susceptible to primary-blast injuries. The fact that they’d sustained no damage reduced the likelihood that he’d been hit with enough concussive force to injure his lungs or his brain. She’d heard horror stories of those with blast-force injuries to the brain who’d lost their memories, and developed short tempers as well as ongoing headaches. Only time would tell the extent of the soldier’s injuries, but for the time being, Lillian’s hopes were buoyed by her discovery.

With her attention focused on the soldier, she hardly noticed the progress of their 52-foot vessel as they left the marina and reached the open sea.

“Did you want something to eat, Lily?” Her mother climbed up from the below-deck cabins and handed her a bottle of water.

Surprised, Lily realized the sun had already sunk low on the horizon. “No, thank you. Water’s fine.”

Her mother sat on the bench near the man’s feet. “Your father’s very upset.”

Lily gestured to the soldier as she placed her otoscope back in its case. “He asked me to help.”

“I know. And I’m glad you want to help again. But he’s not an injured animal. He’s a person.”

“Doesn’t that make him even more worthy of my help?”

Her mother sighed.

Lily changed the subject. “Can you help me try to get him out of his suit jacket? There’s blood on his shirt. I just want to make sure it came from his face. I don’t want to miss an injury.”

Her mother agreed, propping up the soldier’s torso while Lily tugged the suit jacket off his arms. She wasn’t sure if it was the humidity or a sizing issue, but the jacket didn’t want to come off. The soldier had been wearing a dark olive dress uniform—maybe he’d been en route to the state dinner. His choice of apparel certainly seemed too formal for an ambush attack. A cluster of medals decorated the garment at the chest, topped by a badge bearing one name. “Lydia.”

When Lillian finally pulled the man’s arms free, Sandra ran her fingers over the name as she folded the jacket neatly. “What do you suppose this means?” She held out the badge for Lily to see.

Lily was already working on the soldier’s shirt buttons, praying silently that he’d be okay. If a shrapnel wound snuck past her, the soldier could bleed out overnight. “Lydia is the name of the country.”

“But the other soldiers we saw in Lydia didn’t have the name of the country on their badge. They had their last names.”

Lily tried to think. If she was honest with herself, she felt uncomfortable checking the soldier’s chest for injuries because he was attractive—wounded or not. “Maybe Lydia is his last name, then.”

“Why would his last name be the same as the name of his country?”

“I don’t know.” Lily focused her attention on inspecting the man in the dying evening light. One thing was for certain—he’d been in fine physical shape before the attack. Lily felt herself blush as she checked his torso for any sign that shrapnel might have penetrated his uniform. Cleaning off the residual blood on his chest, she determined it had soaked through from the outside, no doubt originating from the injuries to his face.

“Did he tell you his name?”

“There wasn’t time to ask.” Lillian reached for the man’s side pants pocket, where a squarish bulge indicated something was stowed. “Maybe he has some ID on him.” She pulled out the contents of his pocket—a wad of unfamiliar bills, secured with a pewter money clip.

“Those aren’t euros,” her mom observed.

“I don’t know what they are.” Lillian flipped through the banknotes, looking for anything that would indicate which country they originated from.

“Why would a Lydian soldier be carrying foreign currency?” Sandra Bardici mused aloud.

Lillian wondered the same thing. Lydia, a small Christian kingdom squeezed along the shoreline between Albania and Greece, traded in euros, the official currency of most of Europe. “It does seem a little odd.” She shook off a shiver.

“Do you suppose he’s working for a foreign nation? He might have been part of the group that staged that attack.”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait for him to wake up so we can ask him.” Lily stuffed the money back into the soldier’s pocket. Satisfied that she’d done all she could for him, she watched his chest rise and fall. He seemed to be breathing easier without the restrictive suit. From what she’d observed, she guessed he wasn’t terribly old, maybe mid- to late-twenties, hardly any older than she was. And in spite of the bandage covering half his face, he was handsome, with sandy brown hair in a military cut, and a strong, square jaw.

Her mother had given up her inquiries. “Don’t put his bloody shirt back on him. I’ll get him one of your father’s old T-shirts.” She retreated back into the cabin, and Lily could hear her footsteps carry her below deck.

As she lowered the man from his propped-up position, Lily’s hands grazed something rough on his back. Afraid she might have missed an injury in the fading light, she traced the ridge with her fingers, then propped him up higher to get a better look.

A network of healing scabs crisscrossed his back, as though he’d been beaten or whipped. As Lily surveyed the extent of the damage, her sympathy for the soldier increased even as she wondered what had caused the marks. It reminded her of the horrors of slavery, and yet, even this far from America, she couldn’t imagine the man having been enslaved, not in the twenty-first century.

She thought of the uniform jacket her mother had carried downstairs. The man was a soldier. “Were you a prisoner of war?” She voiced the question in a whisper, not expecting a response.

Settling the man’s torso back gently onto the cushion, Lily let his head rest on her lap for just a second as she held the edge of the boat, preparing to scoot out from under him.

The man moaned and shifted his head.

Lily froze. She’d been thinking that he ought to drink something, but she didn’t want to shove it down his throat and risk drowning him. She figured if he was reviving, however slightly, now was her chance. She grabbed the water bottle her mother had brought her.

* * *

A dark blanket of pain settled heavily across his face. He wanted to push it away, but it felt so heavy, and his mouth was dry. So dry.

“Water?”

The word came from somewhere beyond him, a gentle, feminine voice.

“Can you sit up a little and drink?”

Who was this creature who knew exactly what he longed for? She’d soothed the pain on his face. She had water. He tried to obey her instructions, to lift his head.

He opened his mouth. Couldn’t she just pour it down his throat? He couldn’t see. There was too much darkness, and too much pain. His head throbbed.

“Can you swallow?”

Something touched his lips, and he felt a tiny pool of cool liquid. “More.” He tried to speak, but it came out as a groan.

“Here—slowly.”

He gulped too much, and sputtered. Afraid the woman would remove the water before his thirst was remotely quenched, he felt relieved when the bottle touched his lips again. He focused on each cool swallow that soothed his parched tongue and dry throat.

Then the water was gone, and he moaned, wanting it back.

“You’ve got to have a horrible headache.” Gentle fingers touched his forehead. “Can you swallow a pill? It will help with the pain.”

If the woman with the water could make his headache go away, he would know God had sent her. He tried to answer, to nod—anything—but the blanket was too heavy for him to push past. Gratitude swelled within him as he felt her place something just inside his mouth.

And then more water. Ah, sweet water. He swallowed it greedily until the bottle held no more.

“That’s enough for now. We don’t know if you’ve sustained any internal injuries, and we don’t want to overwhelm them.”

The gentle voice hinted at something. Injuries? That would explain the pain. Who was this gentle woman who eased his pain?

Come to think of it, who was he? Fighting back against the throbbing in his head, he tried to think, but the pain only pounded louder, the blanket of darkness heavier. He tried for a moment to resist it, then gave in to its pressing darkness.

TWO

Lillian left the soldier sleeping on the cushioned bench and headed for the pilothouse, where her father was bound to be sulking at the wheel, resenting her for rescuing the man. After helping her squeeze the soldier into an old T-shirt, her mother had gone belowdecks, where the 52-foot sloop housed three cabins, two bathrooms and the freshly stocked kitchen. Night had fallen, and Lily knew her mother was tired from the events of the day. No doubt she’d gone on to bed.

Padding silently up the steps to the pilothouse, Lily heard her father’s voice and realized he was on the phone. Not wanting to interrupt him, she held back, trying to evaluate how long he might spend on the call.

“Ha! I wish it had been a dolphin. I’d even take a shark. No, this time she rescued a human. What’s that? Yes, you heard right. A person. A soldier, actually. He was injured in all those explosions. Now he’s passed out on deck with some sort of concussion.”

Lily listened intently, hoping to discern how upset her father really was about her new project.

“If he has a name, I haven’t heard what it is. His uniform said Lydia. Yes, right above his medals, like it was his last name.”

Heart thudding hard, Lily wondered if her father might learn something that would help identify the man she’d rescued. She and her parents had sailed to Lydia to visit her uncle David, who was a general in charge of the Lydian Army. If that was who her father was speaking to, he might well know their mystery soldier’s identity.

Her father sucked in a breath. “But, Dave, we’re already twenty miles out to sea, and he’s unconscious. If I throw him overboard, he’ll drown.”

Lily clutched the doorframe and ducked back, suddenly aware that her innocent intentions had turned into serious eavesdropping. Her uncle David wanted the soldier tossed overboard? Surely her father would talk him out of it.

“I understand. Yes, yes, I see your point. I don’t know much about those kinds of injuries myself, but we don’t want him lingering for days just to die on our boat. No, she didn’t have any luck with the horses, and she’s still torn up about that. I suppose it’s better this way.”

What? Was her father actually planning to push the man overboard? He’d die for sure! Lily tried to think. Her father was upset with her for rescuing the soldier in the first place. She’d overreached his favor already, so there would be little use begging him to change his mind. Besides, she’d learned over the course of their visit to Lydia that her father’s older brother had tremendous influence over her dad—far more than she had.

As Michael Bardici went on about the soldier’s injuries, and his fears that the soldier might awaken in a terrible rage and murder them all in their sleep, Lily tiptoed back to the injured man’s side. He’d roused earlier, when he’d taken the pain relievers she’d given him. If those had gone to work, maybe she could wake him up all the way. He’d have to defend himself against her father. She didn’t see any other way out of the situation.

Crouching by his side, she patted his uninjured cheek. “Excuse me, sir? You’ve got to wake up!” He emitted a low moan, but didn’t move. She shook his shoulders. If she could just rouse him, surely the strong soldier would be able to ward off her father, even in his injured state.

“Please—you’ve got to wake up.” She bent close to his ear. “My father wants to toss you overboard. We’re way out into the Mediterranean. There’s nowhere to go if you go overboard. You’ve got to wake up!” She shook him hard, her alarm increasing as she heard footsteps crossing the deck behind her.

“Lillian.” Michael Bardici’s voice was stern. “What are you doing?”

She turned to confront him, not caring if desperation showed on her face. “This man is under my protection.” She wished her voice wouldn’t tremble.

“He’s injured. He probably won’t live more than a couple of days. Your uncle explained to me about these blast injuries. They explode a person from the inside—”

“His ears were fine. That means the impact of the blast wasn’t strong enough to cause internal injuries.”

“Then why won’t he wake up?”

Lily groaned. The man behind her on the bench was rousing. She’d watched his eyelids flutter. Given another minute, he might be able to pull himself from his pain-filled sleep. If she could buy him another minute.

Backing against the bench, she spread her arms wide as though to physically block Michael Bardici from reaching the prone soldier. “He’s recovering. He just needs time.”

“And then what? He’ll awaken in a fit of terror and kill us all.”

“No, he won’t.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know him. Your uncle David recognized the name from his uniform. He was part of the insurgent uprising that caused all that commotion in Sardis. Don’t you see, Lillian? We can’t trust him. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s a human being. If you toss him overboard, he’ll die. That’s called murder, and it’s illegal.” She didn’t bother to mention that it went against the Bible’s teachings. Her father didn’t share her faith, and she’d learned not to try to foist it on him.

“It’s not illegal if it’s done in self-defense.”

“He’s not threatening you.”

“Not now, but if he wakes up and tries something, he could overpower all three of us. Besides, if I don’t do it, David said he’d drop everything and take care of the man himself. You saw the explosions in town. Your uncle has his hands full. He shouldn’t have to come out here and clean up the mess I never should have let you make in the first place.” The words sounded more like something her uncle David would say, and Lily realized her father was likely quoting his older brother. “One little push, Lily. That’s all it will take.” He advanced slowly until he was less than an arm’s length away.

Lily could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the rising helplessness that had overcome her when her father’s horses had begun to die. She would have done anything to save the horses, but there had been nothing she could do.

She wasn’t going to let it happen again, especially not to a human being. “You can’t. You just can’t. We’ll put in at the next port and I’ll leave him off there. I don’t care where it is. Find me a beach somewhere, and I promise I’ll leave him, but you can’t just push him over in the middle of the sea.”

Even as she spoke, begging for her father’s mercy, his expression hardened. He reached past her, getting his hands under the soldier’s shoulders.

“No! You can’t!” She tried to pry his arm away. The soldier groaned and blinked. He was waking up!

But he was too late.

Her father shoved his shoulder between her and the half-conscious soldier, scooping his arm under him, tilting him toward the rail.

“No!” Lily held the soldier’s shoulders, fighting to keep him on the boat.

“Let go.” Michael pulled her hands free and got an arm under the man’s torso, leveraging him up even as the awakening man grasped the air in front of him.

“Don’t do it!” Lily pounced atop the bench, throwing all her weight into the tug-of-war.

Her mother gasped from the direction of the below-deck stairs. “Lily! What are you doing?”

Startled, Lily looked up just as her father caught her by her shoulders, plucking her up and tossing her back toward her mother. She scrambled back, shocked by her father’s behavior. He’d thrown her across the boat! She found her feet as her father got his arms under the soldier and, with one giant heave, tossed him over the side.

“No!” Lily screamed as she leapt across the deck. Kicking off her sneakers, she bounded onto the bench and leapt over the rail, diving into the Mediterranean water. A moment later she rose and looked frantically about. The sea was fairly calm, but they’d been cutting through the water at a good clip, and had no doubt passed the spot where the soldier had gone overboard.

Spotting something white—his T-shirt, perhaps—she kicked her legs out and swam toward it, just as her mother’s screams carried through the air, and a life preserver flew past her head, its rope unfurling behind it.

The rope splashed across her just as her right leg kicked down, catching the cord in a tangle. For one terrified instant, she realized it had twined around her leg. Then the dogged progress of the boat through the water pulled the line taught, dragging her backward with it. She tried to scream, to gulp a breath, anything, but the overwhelming force pulled her through the sea, poring water into her nose, her eyes, her mouth.

She tried to reach the rope to untangle it, but the press of the water was far too great for her to fight against. With sinking terror, she realized there was nothing she could do to free herself. The sun had set and the night was dark. Would her parents even be able to see what had happened? Even if they quickly realized they needed to haul her in, by the time they got the boat stopped, she’d likely be drowned.

* * *

Shock rippled through him as he hit the water, snapping him into the full consciousness that had evaded him as he’d tried to pull himself from sleep moments before. Where was he? What had happened? Acting on instinct, he clawed upward for air, and saw the stars twinkling down from the night sky above.

A scream caught his attention, and he saw a woman throw a life preserver. It fell just short of him, and he cleared the distance to it in a couple of strokes. Grabbing hold, he got his head up enough above the water to see.

There were arms in the water.

No, more than arms, there was a woman. Her leg was caught on the rope to his life preserver, and the moving boat hauled her backward through the water, facedown, helpless.

He recognized her brown hair, her pale pink top. He’d glimpsed her before through pain-dulled eyes. It was the woman who’d given him water and made his pain go away!

Pulling on the rope, he hauled her toward him, and looped one arm under her torso. Gently, he lifted her up and shoved the flotation device under her head. He peeled back the long brown hair and found her face just as she gasped a breath and belched up seawater.

“Can you hold the ring?”

She coughed, but clutched the flotation device with white-knuckled fingers.

“Hold tight.” He knew he had to get her leg untangled, or risk her being pulled back under again. Fighting the current created by the moving boat that tugged them relentlessly forward, he pulled himself along the loose length of rope, caught hold of where it had pulled taught, and held it behind her, creating enough slack to allow him to squeeze it back past her heel, and work her foot free.

He dropped her foot and swam back to her head, balancing himself above the life preserver, level with her eyes. “Are you okay?”

She coughed and looked like she was trying to nod.

He peeled back more of the sodden hair that covered her face. She really was beautiful, even half drowned.

Whoever was running the boat had gotten it slowed down considerably, and voices were yelling something, but he couldn’t make out what.

“Here.” He eased the woman onto his shoulder as he held tight to the rope. “I’m going to pull us up.”

She clung to him, her head slumped against his neck, her rattling breath easing as she tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Stairs,” she said, and coughed again. “Stairs—at the stern.”

He didn’t doubt there were stairs at the back of the boat, but he wasn’t about to let go of the rope to go looking for them. The night was too dark, the sea too vast and the boat was still cutting through the water, though more slowly now.

“I’ve got you. Just hold on tight.” Pulling hand-over-hand up the rope, he moved them closer to the boat, until he kicked the hull with his boots and fairly walked up the side, rappelling against the sailboat.

The woman clutched him tighter as they rose out of the water and the ship tipped slightly from their combined weight.

“Can you climb aboard?” he asked the woman as he got one hand on the rail.

“No. You first,” she whispered. “If I get onboard, he’ll only push you over again.”

Unsure of whom the woman referred to, he nonetheless heaved one shoulder over the rail.

Hands pulled at the woman in his arms, but she held on to him tightly as he rolled them both over the railing and scrambled to standing on the deck.

“Lily.” An older woman reached for the girl he’d rescued, but she shook her head and shoved him toward a doorway that led down stairs to the lit cabins belowdecks. He obediently headed in the direction he was pushed.

“Lillian.” A man stepped in front of them, barring the way.

“He can have my room.” The waterlogged young woman pleaded, her voice trembling. “Let him be. We can leave him at the next port.”

But the man looked angry, and regarded him with a scowl.

Straightening to his full height, he returned the man’s glare. He couldn’t remember who he was, but he was nearly certain he could take the older man if it came to a fight.

The man must have realized it, too, because he stepped aside, his mouth set in a grim line.

She pushed him ahead of her, down the stairs, and guided him into a comfortable-looking full-size berth and en-suite bathroom.

He spotted a waterproof chair and slumped down on it.

“Lily?” The older woman was at the door again. “What are you thinking, letting that man in your room?”

“He’s too big for the guest room. And this way, he’ll have his own private bathroom.” Lily left the door open a crack and addressed her through the gap. “I’m just going to re-dress his bandages. I’ll move to the guest room for tonight.”

“Fine.” The woman shrank away with a resigned sigh, and Lily closed the door.

He caught his breath as Lily approached him, her movements cautious.

“Do you mind if I remove your bandages?”

“Please.” He sat still as she peeled the soaking wet red-stained gauze from his head.

“I need to run upstairs and get the first-aid kit. I’ll be right back. If you feel light-headed, you can lie down.” She disappeared, and returned quickly with a suitcase-size first-aid kit. Perching on the edge of the bed beside his chair, she gingerly dabbed his face with ointment, her touch gentle.

“Your name is Lily?” He repeated the name he’d heard the other woman use.

“Lillian Bardici.”

He tried to think. Bardici. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. But then, he didn’t even know who he was. Everything had happened so quickly, and he had far more questions than answers. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. Don’t you remember?”

He closed his eyes and tried to think, but the throbbing in his head drowned out all his thoughts. “I don’t. The last thing I can recall is being thirsty, and you gave me a drink. How did we end up in the water?”

“My father threw you overboard. I jumped in after you.”

“To rescue me?” He couldn’t imagine that the slender woman would have had much success dragging him aboard if he hadn’t awakened, but at the same time, he felt grateful that she’d tried.

“Yes.” She squeezed more antibacterial ointment from a tube. “To try, anyway.”

“Why did your father throw me over?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” Lillian sighed as her gentle hands eased the salt-sting on his wounds. “My parents and I have been living on this boat for the past month—that’s a long story, too. We sailed from New York to Lydia to visit my father’s older brother, David. He’s a general in the Lydian Army. I don’t like my uncle at all. He’s extremely bossy, and he pushes my dad around. My uncle told my parents that we needed to leave Lydia before the state dinner tonight.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Lillian wiped ointment from her fingers onto a towel before trimming a length of clean gauze to cover his injury. “At the time, I just thought he was being controlling. But maybe he had some inkling about what was going to happen.” She looked at him thoughtfully.

He studied her face, trying to read what she was thinking. Her blue eyes were streaked with pale gray and green, giving them an almost aquamarine undertone, stunningly beautiful, like the Mediterranean Sea.

Lillian shrugged and continued her story. “I wanted to see the royal motorcade pass by. The kingdom of Lydia has a royal family, but news about them rarely reaches the United States. I’ve seen pictures of the princesses—they’re so elegant, and always promoting humanitarian causes—but the rest of the royal family is fairly private. I just wanted to catch a glimpse…”

“Did you?”

“Hardly. Soldiers pushed everyone back, and then explosions started going off everywhere. I was afraid we’d all be killed.”

Explosions, yes. He pinched his eyes shut, shadows of memories taunting him from beyond the pain-filled recesses of his mind. Slivers of memories fell down like dust motes shaken free. “They were diversion grenades—classified as nonlethal.”

“What? You remember?” She looked startled, maybe even frightened. “How do you know that?”

But the memory melted away like a snowflake in the sun, evaporating to nothingness even as he reached for it. “I don’t know how I know.” He shook his head, wishing he could as easily shake loose the thoughts held prisoner inside. He sighed. “That might explain why I can’t remember much—the trauma from the blast must have temporarily wiped out my memory.”

“Temporarily.” Lillian repeated. “How soon do you think it will be before you get it back?”

“Hard to say. Hopefully not long. Stun grenades aren’t mean to inflict permanent damage.”

“How is it that you know that, but you don’t remember your own name?”

He thought carefully before answering. “I remember how to speak. I remember how to swim.”

“I’m grateful you remembered that much.” Her small smile seemed intended to encourage him.

It warmed his heart. He wished, for her sake, that he could remember. That he had answers to give her. She’d already helped him so much, and he’d done nothing but get her in trouble. “The concussion may have only affected one area of my brain—my personal memories. Hopefully the blast wasn’t too strong, and I’ll recover my memory soon.”

“Maybe that explains why you weren’t injured any worse than you were.” Lillian taped a bandage securely into place. “Whatever those explosions were, I thought for sure we’d all be killed. I saw you in an alley, and ran for my bike just as you did. When you climbed in the backseat I pedaled for the yacht, dumped you onboard, and we got away from Sardis as quickly as we could. But—” she took a deep breath “—my father talked to my uncle, who told him to throw you overboard.”

“Why?”

“He said you’re dangerous.” Lillian sat back, her hands on her knees as she leaned away from him as though she thought he might be dangerous, too.

“Dangerous?” He mulled over the thought.

“My uncle said you were involved with the insurgents who ambushed the royal motorcade.” Her voice grew thoughtful. “You knew what kind of grenades they were shooting.”

Sensing the uncertainty Lillian struggled with, he scrambled to think of something reassuring he could tell her. But everything beyond the last ten minutes was covered by a dark cloud, and the circumstances she’d found him in certainly sounded suspicious. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

She let out a breath and blinked at the floor, finally meeting his eyes again. “I don’t know.”

Hope flirted with the doubt in her eyes. She wanted to trust him. He wanted to be worthy of that trust, but he didn’t know enough about his own history to know if he was. “So why are you helping me?”

“You were injured. You asked me to help you—to get you out of Lydia before they found you.”

“Before who found me?”

“I suppose it depends on whose side you’re on.” She gave him that wary, uncertain look again.

He wanted to assure her that he was a person of integrity and honor, not someone to be feared, but he couldn’t claim something he didn’t know to be true. The unknowns of his past sat between them like a live grenade that might go off at any moment.

Lillian rose to her feet. “Do you need anything? There’s drinking water there, and a few snacks.” She pointed to a small fridge that served as a nightstand. “Help yourself.”

Her hospitality surprised him. She didn’t know whether he could be trusted, and yet, she’d given up her room for him, and had gone out of her way to make him comfortable.

Lillian stopped halfway to the door. “I’ll be across the hall if you need anything. You might want to lock yourself in the room. Don’t trust my father.”

“Thank you.” He took a step forward, intending to shake her hand.

She shrank back against the door frame.

“I have no intention of hurting you.” He assured her quickly, wishing he had evidence to back up his claim. “I don’t think I’m dangerous.”

Her eyes flickered across the breadth of his shoulders, to the thick biceps that stretched the sleeves of the T-shirt he wore, up to his full height, towering over her in the close confines of the stateroom. “I think—” a tremor cut through her words “—you could be plenty dangerous, if you wanted to be.”

He lowered his head. She had an excellent point. His powerful physique indicated that he lived a lifestyle that required him to be strong. Did that mean he was dangerous? Her uncle and her father thought so.

“Thank you for everything—” he began, startled by the sound of someone knocking on the other side of the heavily lacquered mahogany door.

Lillian looked concerned and stepped away from the door to make room to open it.

As she did so, the door swung open, virtually eliminating any open floor space in the tiny room. He shrank back, intending to get out of her way, but she must have had the same thought, because she stumbled into him and he reached out to steady her just as the door swung open.

Lily’s father stood on the other side, his face red up to his receding hairline, his eyes bulging with anger.

Lily shuffled away, but the move only made her look that much more guilty as she disentangled herself from his arms.

“Lillian,” her father seethed. “What are you doing?”

She opened her mouth to answer.

He raised one hand, silencing her as he addressed the soldier. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“He’s lost his memory from the blasts,” Lily explained. “But he could regain it at any time.”

Lily’s father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. This man is coming with me.”

“Why? Where?” Lillian looked as though she might try to step between them.

“Your uncle David would like to see him.” Her father grabbed the soldier by his arm. “On deck. Now.”

He could have fought the older man, but having just assured Lillian that he wasn’t dangerous, he didn’t figure he ought to strike her father. That left him with no choice but to walk in the direction he was shoved.

“Stay in your room, Lily.”

“No.” The stubborn woman trailed them both up onto the deck.

For one disorientated moment, he thought perhaps a storm had blown up. Then he recognized the familiar sound of a military helicopter’s pulsing rotors.

He tensed, all his instincts telling him there was danger in the darkness.

A man stepped into the dim circle of light provided by a fixture next to the pilothouse door. Other than the military uniform he wore, and his hair more salt than pepper, he looked like Lillian’s father.

The uniformed man—apparently Lily’s uncle David—spoke. “You tried to run away. That was foolish.” He raised a hand, gesturing to somewhere beyond them.

Four uniformed men stepped from the shadows—soldiers, with guns slung across their backs. They stepped toward him as though to apprehend him.

His heart pounded. Should he fight them or go nicely? He didn’t even know who he was—how was he supposed to know how to respond to these men?

“No!” Lillian screamed from behind him, pushing her way between him and the men who approached.

The soldiers reacted, two of them lunging toward him, two others rushing her, intention to harm spelled across their features and their postures.

He made up his mind instantly. He couldn’t let them hurt Lillian.

Whipping his boot around in a high-round kick, he sent the nearest two soldiers sprawling.

THREE

Lillian staggered back, as the soldier who’d rescued her from the sea dispatched a flurry of kicks at the soldiers who swarmed the deck of her father’s sloop. The first two fell and didn’t rise. He disarmed the next, pulling the intimidatingly large gun off the man’s back and knocking him in the head with the end of it, sending him keeling back into the fourth soldier, who drew his gun, only to have it kicked from his hand, clattering across the deck.

It was her uncle David who ended it, pulling out his own gun and grabbing her by the arm, shoving the cold metal up under her jaw so hard her head snapped sideways.

“Stop!”

The soldier spun around, his blue eyes immediately sizing up the situation. “Let her go.”

Lillian glanced at her parents, who were cowering in the doorway of the pilothouse. She waited for them to reprimand her uncle, to demand he put away the gun that he held to her head.

They shrank back, fear on their faces, and said nothing.

“You’ll come with me.” David glowered at the soldier. “And if you make one false move, Lillian won’t be here to save you the next time.”

The soldier closed his eyes in submission.

The other uniformed men rose from where they’d fallen, warily grasping the soldier as the helicopter that had been hovering just beyond the boat moved closer. Lillian saw that her parents had lowered the sails to keep the whirling rotors from harming them. They must have welcomed her uncle aboard as she’d been below, bandaging up the soldier’s face again, the sounds of the helicopter drowned out by the ambient noise of the ship and the sea.

A ladder dangled from the helicopter, and David nodded toward it. “Climb,” he told the soldier.

The man stepped forward, grabbed the rungs, and ascended. One by one, the rest of the soldiers followed him up, disappearing into the shadowy bird that hovered over them in the night sky.

David pulled her toward the ladder.

Finally, her father stepped forward. “You can’t take Lillian.”

“I don’t have any choice.” David lowered the gun, but kept it pointed at her. “You saw how he responded when I threatened her. He didn’t hesitate. She may be the only effective weapon I have against him.”

“You won’t hurt her?”

“She’ll be fine.”

Sandra Bardici peeked her head around her husband’s shoulder. “Can she change into dry clothes first? She doesn’t even have shoes on.”

David Bardici looked up and down her simple outfit of khaki pants and a pale pink T-shirt. “Her clothes will dry soon enough. Can you wear those shoes?” He pointed to her sneakers, which were still on the deck where she’d kicked them off earlier.

While Lily hurried to slip into the shoes, her uncle leaned closer to her father. She had to listen closely to hear him over the roar of the helicopter. “Does she know who he is?”

“He doesn’t even know who he is. The explosions wiped out his memory.”

“Temporarily, I hope.” David grimaced. “His memory may be our only link to vital intelligence. We need that information as soon as possible.”

Lily listened to their conversation with shock pulsing through her veins. She’d never liked her uncle, but to have him suddenly pull a gun on her—worse yet, to use a threat against her life to control the man who’d rescued her from the sea—rocked her world far more than the angry waves stirred up by the low-hovering helicopter’s rotors.

But her uncle David’s behavior fit with his personality, even if it was extreme. And her parents—they’d been acting odd since before the trip to Lydia, and even more so once they’d arrived. Their broken promises compiled a strong case against them. Obviously neither of them was about to challenge David’s demands.

No, she couldn’t expect either of them to help her any more than they’d spoken up to defend her when uncle David had slammed the gun under her jaw. The only person who’d reacted had been the soldier.

The thought of him sent a trickle of comfort through her. She recalled how gently he’d swept the matted hair from her face as he’d propped her up on the life preserver. He’d not only untangled her leg from the rope, but he’d massaged her tight calf muscle, almost as though he’d known the rope had bit into it, causing it to cramp. And then he’d held her, so firmly and so securely, as he’d pulled her back onto the boat.

She couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt so protected.

With the shoes on, she stood, and her mother gave her a cursory hug, as she had so many times when Lily headed back to school for the semester. “Please call and let us know what’s happening.” She looked at David, not even blinking at the gun he brandished. “I don’t suppose you can tell us where you’re headed?”

“North Africa. We need to get going or we won’t have enough fuel left to make it there.” David shoved her toward the ladder.

Lillian looked up at the thunderous bird hovering above them, its dark shape blending with the night sky, making it look infinitely large. She wasn’t particularly keen on ladders or heights, especially ladders ascending to nowhere, with gun-bearing soldiers awaiting her on top.

“Climb up.” Her uncle’s voice grew impatient, the threat of his gun reinforcing each word.

She told herself not to be afraid, not because she felt she could trust her uncle, but because she knew the nameless soldier was up there, and she hoped he could protect her. She grasped the nearest rung and began to climb.

* * *

He tried to shift his body into a less-uncomfortable position, but the soldiers had used a thick zip tie to bind his wrists behind his back, so he had only limited use of his arms. Shifting his back against the cool metal wall of the helicopter, he stared at the soldiers who sat on the other side of the luggage netting, guns resting across their laps, pointed at him.

No one moved. The bird hovered, waiting for the man who’d pulled the gun on Lillian—Lillian’s uncle David.

Please keep her safe. He found himself praying, though he hadn’t realized he was a man of faith. A movement in the doorway caught his attention, and he turned in time to see Lily’s wide-eyed face rise into view, her hands white and trembling as she gripped the doorframe and crawled in.

His heart plummeted. They’d brought her along. She looked terrified. What were they going to do with her?

Her uncle David followed with the gun, the door closed, and the helicopter moved forward through the dark sky.

Lillian turned to face her uncle. “Where should I sit?”

“Here.” He spun her around so that her back was to him, grabbed a zip tie from the nearest soldier, and strapped her wrists together before shoving her through the opening in the luggage netting.

She fell forward, tried to catch herself, slammed her shoulder into the sloping back wall, and slid down to the floor beside him, her arms restrained behind her back.

He wished he could reach out to her and help her in her efforts to sit. She rose halfway up, bracing herself against the steep slope of the back wall as though trying to put some distance between them, but there wasn’t room in the cramped stowage space.

Lillian slumped down again, her face against his arm. A silent sob shuddered up through her, and she sniffed.

He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t want to get her in more trouble by doing so. The soldiers on the other side of the netting had their guns pointed their way, but other than that, didn’t seem to be paying them much attention. Her uncle had disappeared into the seat next to the pilot, and seemed oblivious to his niece or anyone else behind him.

The inside of the helicopter was dark—too dark to make out any details. And the ambient noise of the flying craft drowned out whatever the soldiers were muttering about to each other.

He could only assume it would do the same, masking his words to Lillian. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Her voice sounded small, and her sniffles reverberated against him. “I’ll try to move over, out of your way.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can lean on me. If you stay close, we can talk without being overheard.”

She fell silent. Probably trying to decide if she even wanted to talk to him.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess. You should have left me in that alley and not looked back.”

“Would that have made my uncle less of a horrible man?”

“His horrible actions wouldn’t have been directed at you, then.”

“Then I would never have known how awful he was. I might have continued thinking of him as a respectable person.” She shifted her face around, bracing her cheek against his arm, until her head was tipped up enough that her words were aimed at his ear, and he could hear her clearly, though she kept her voice low. “I would rather know the ugly truth than live in the comfort of a lie.”

“You sound as though you’ve thought this through.”

“I’ve had to do a lot of thinking lately.” She stopped fighting her position and left her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “And I think we need to figure out what’s going on, and get away from my uncle as soon as we can.”

He liked the way she thought. “I agree. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help in sorting out what’s going on.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I remember you. You pulled me from the alley, you gave me water when I was thirsty and you bandaged my face after I pulled you from the ocean. That’s the total sum of my knowledge at this point.”

She sighed.

“Sorry I can’t be of any more help than that, but it does make me indebted to you, considering you’re the only person I’ve met this evening who hasn’t attacked me.”

“Do you know anything about North Africa?”

“Why?”

“That’s where we’re headed—unless my uncle lied to my parents, which wouldn’t surprise me.”

“This helicopter can only travel about 500 miles without refueling. Assuming it came from Lydia, the northern coast of Africa would be about as far as it could go in one trip.”

Lily sat up a little straighter. “How can you possibly know that, and still not know your own name?”

He shrugged. “Ask me another question. Maybe you can trick me into revealing who I am.”

She huffed, whether out of frustration or incredulity, he wasn’t sure. But she quickly rose to his challenge. “All right. My uncle said that your memory was their only link to vital information that they need right now. Any idea what that means?”

He pinched his eyes shut and tried to think. “I know something they don’t?”

“I’d gathered that much from the context. Whatever it is, they seem intent on gleaning that information from you.”

“How are they going to do that? Traditional interrogation methods won’t work if I can’t access my own memory.” His heart started thumping ominously. If the men were desperate for information, they’d likely resort to drastic measures, but if he had vital intel they couldn’t risk letting him die, so obviously too much torture would be out of the question.

Lillian seemed to realize the answer just as he did. “My uncle said they needed to bring me along because of the way you reacted when they threatened me. He said I was their most valuable weapon against you.”

His blood ran cold, and he realized he’d clenched his hands into fists that were useless, bound as he was. Of course. They wouldn’t torture him—they’d torture her, and make him watch until he spilled every secret he had.

Except that he had no way of spilling any secrets, not if he couldn’t remember anything. Innocent Lillian would suffer, and there would be nothing he could do about it.

The depth of conviction in his voice surprised him. “We’ll have to get away from him quickly. Maybe even as soon as we reach the ground. The faster we can make a break for it, the more likely our plans are to succeed.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something tells me, once we get to wherever we’re headed, there won’t be any way out.”

Lillian panted slightly, clearly wrestling with what he’d told her.

He felt the need to devise a plan. “Do you know anything about North Africa?”

“Not much,” she confessed. “Hasn’t North Africa been in the news for years now because of violence and fighting and militant groups?”

“You’re right. It’s a very unstable part of the world, with an inhospitable desert climate.” An image shifted through his thoughts, blowing like desert sand, and he felt the sting of it, the oppressive heat, the thirst, the desolation. Like the mirage of a desert oasis, it evaporated as he tried to focus on it, leaving only the lingering image of what once was, or might have been. He grasped at it, but it slipped through his fingers like so much blowing sand.

He opened his eyes to find that Lily had straightened up, pulling her face close to his, watching him.

“Did you remember something?” she whispered as though afraid her words might scare off the wisp of memory.

“I think—” he swallowed, trying to chase the thought, but the sand filled in the footprints more quickly than he could follow them “—I think I’ve been there before.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe you’ll know your way around.”

“Maybe.” He swallowed, his thirst intensified by the mere thought of the desert. He wanted to believe Lillian was right, but from the cold clenching of his gut, he was pretty sure his last visit to the northern coast of Africa hadn’t been good at all.

Lily told herself to focus. The mystery of the soldier’s identity teased her imagination, pulling her thoughts away from forming a plan. But she didn’t have time to waste wondering who the man beside her really was. He’d proven himself to be trustworthy—more trustworthy than her parents, and far more than her uncle. So it didn’t matter, then, who he was. He was her only ally, and they needed to work together.

He must have been thinking along the same lines, because he whispered, “It would be helpful if we could get these zip ties off our wrists. We won’t get far without the use of our arms.”

“You’re right. I didn’t get a very close look at what they used, but I think they’re a basic zip tie like any other, with a ratcheting mechanism that keeps them closed tight. I did an internship at a veterinary clinic and a lot of our supplies came zip tied together. I got pretty good at backing the ratchet out.”

“Do you think you could work my hands free?”

“It’s worth a try. Can you get your hands where I can reach them? Don’t let the soldiers see what we’re doing.”

Shifting subtly, Lillian managed to get her hands aimed at the soldier, who’d turned his body at a similar angle toward her. She found his fingers, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, distracting her for a moment with the comfort he offered in that tiny gesture. It reminded her that she wasn’t alone—that even though they were no longer facing one another, he was with her, working for her freedom as much as his.

She found the nylon strap of the zip tie he’d been bound with, and located the ratcheting mechanism with her fingers. If it was like the ones she’d encountered at the vet clinic, all she had to do was squeeze the head to open up the ratchet box, then depress the engaged ratchet enough to slide it out from the rack. In concept, the steps were easy enough for her to envision.

But with her arm muscles already cramping from their awkward position, and unable to see what she was doing, coaxing the two sides apart proved to be a difficult trick. She squeezed the stubborn plastic box with her fingernails, trying to apply just the right amount of pressure to weaken its hold on the strap.

Finally, it slipped back the slightest bit, and her heart rejoiced for a moment before the box caught on the very next ratchet.

It would take her all night at this rate!

They didn’t have all night. In fact, she suspected they didn’t have very long at all. Repeating the motions that had worked before, she tried to ease the strap back another notch, but her hand began to cramp from the constricted angle required to pinch the zip tie.

She flexed her fingers.

“Are you all right?”

“Hand cramp. I just need a second. It’s working.” When the spasm at the base of her thumb stopped throbbing, she squeezed the zip tie again, trying to direct her motions for maximum effectiveness. The strap popped back one notch, and she flexed her fingers while a bead of sweat trickled down her arm. She pinched again, loosened it another notch and kept going. As she worked, the molded nylon became more pliant, allowing her to slip it past the notches more freely.

“Stop there,” the soldier requested when she had the zip tie near the end of its length. “I’ll be able to slip my hands out through the loop when I need to, but I want to give the appearance of still being bound. If they realize we’re loose, they’ll only tie us up again.”

Lillian saw the wisdom of his plan. “Do you think you can work me free?”

“I can try. How did you do it?” He leaned closer to her as they spoke, but kept one hand on her fingers.

Lily told herself he was holding on so that he didn’t have to find her hand again, but at the same time, the security of his touch calmed her heart. She found her voice, and explained how she’d backed the ratchets out. “Think you can do it?”

“My fingers aren’t as nimble as yours, but I don’t see any other way of getting you free. Let me have a go at it.”

Turning away from her again, he tugged on her arm until he could reach the zip tie, and she felt him struggle to work the tricky notches free.

As he’d hinted, his larger hands weren’t as dexterous as her agile fingers, but he kept working on the zip tie, in spite of his lack of progress.

“Do you need to try something else?” she asked after several long, fruitless minutes.

“I think I’m getting closer. It’s tricky. Do you have a better idea?”

“Nothing.”

“Then I’m going to keep at it. I’m not about to give up.” His determination with the obstinate zip tie spoke volumes about his commitment to keeping her with him as he made his escape, which Lillian found reassuring. After all, he was strong and, based on the way he’d overcome the four armed men on her father’s boat, obviously a skilled fighter. If either of them had a shot at freedom, he was clearly far better equipped to make his bid. If she got left behind, she’d be at her uncle’s mercy.

And she didn’t believe for one second the promise he’d made to her parents, that she’d be fine. Uncle David had lied through his teeth. He’d tied her up and shoved her into the stowage compartment as though she was nothing more than a piece of luggage. She was a weapon to him, valuable only as long as she was useful. If the soldier escaped without her, she’d no longer be useful to her uncle. She didn’t want to think about what might happen then.

Just as she began to fear her zip tie was a lost cause, she felt its tight hold slacken slightly.

“I’m making progress.” Relief filled his voice.

“Good.” Lily didn’t want to distract him, but the whir of the rotors had lowered in pitch. They were slowing down, likely approaching their destination and preparing to land. They might not have much longer. “If you can get it loose enough, maybe I’ll be able to squeeze my hand out.”

“Whatever happens, whether I get you free or not, I want you to follow my lead when we disembark.”

“What’s your plan?”

“It will depend on where we are, how many men are on the ground and what kind of weapons they’re carrying.”

The mere thought of armed men sent a shudder rippling through Lily.

He obviously felt it, because he quickly reassured her. “We’ll have the element of surprise on our side. They won’t be expecting us to make any sort of move. We’ll use that to our advantage.”

“But we’re already outnumbered.”

“True. But you said earlier they need the knowledge that’s in my head. They’re not going to risk killing me.”

Lily swallowed. “What about me?”

“I thought that David fellow was your uncle.”

“Yes, but you saw how he tied me up and shoved me back here. I don’t have any critical information in my head.” As she spoke, they shifted with a hollow thump. The helicopter’s skids settled to the ground. They’d landed. And though the soldier had worked the zip tie back a few more notches, Lillian was still securely restrained. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up without help.

“He’s not going to hurt you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I won’t let him.”