Her partner called her cell phone while she and Seth were at the airport the next day to say he’d run the license plate on the car at the restaurant. “It’s a rental,” he told Charlie. “Nearly took an act of God to track ’em, but they’re Feds.”

Charlie had suspected as much.

“Vargas? There’s more.” Julio sounded concerned.

Damn. “What?” she asked.

“Pretty sure that guy you’re with in Mexico was one of Damien Rogers’s employees, an escort.”

Charlie wasn’t surprised, but the news didn’t sit well with her. Why can’t I have a normal relationship with a man? “Let’s have it.”

“Rogers showed up here yesterday.”

“At the precinct?” Charlie was shocked, so much that she had to lower her voice.

“Yep. He came to talk about Martin, to see if we had any leads, and your file on the guy wasn’t in the records department, so I checked your station. You had your boyfriend’s picture inside your desk, right?”

Charlie almost corrected him to say that Seth wasn’t her boyfriend, but she kept mum on the subject and simply asked him to continue.

“So I’m looking for that file, and there was that picture of your boyfriend sitting in a drawer, and when I opened it, with him peering over my shoulder, it was like this man Rogers had seen a ghost or something. He stared and stared then said he thinks this guy worked for him, too, but he couldn’t recall his name. You had it listed on the back of the picture, so I gave it to him. He started nodding, said yep, that was him, said the guy just disappeared one day and he never heard from him again.”

Julio kept rambling. “I call bullshit on that one. Two men who work for him disappear, and he doesn’t know what happened to either of them? Either the escort business has a high turnover rate, or this guy’s dirty, Vargas.”

Charlie set her jaw grimly. And Seth is involved. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, the Feds were here as well, checking on a guy named Mason Aldridge and asking what you were doing in Mexico.”

“What?” This time Charlie couldn’t repress a small shriek.

“Seems they sent an agent to Mexico to attend some function because Aldridge was in cahoots with somebody importing illegal aliens across the border, something related to terrorism. I didn’t catch all of it because once Bemo had them in his office, they shut the door and drew the blinds.” Julio paused. “Who is Aldridge? Only reference I found to him was that he was listed in an accident report along with one Marjorie Lawson—you had a copy of that on your desk, too. That happened out of our jurisdiction. We investigating that as well? That what you’re doing in Mexico?”

When she didn’t respond, Julio added, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snoop, just thought I could help.”

“No. Hang on a sec.” Charlie felt sick to her stomach. She glanced up to see Seth from across the room, his eyes intent upon her features. She was sure she must’ve looked guilty at first because her first thoughts were that Seth had to have been involved with Aldridge to have been linked to him, to have Aldridge’s sister so quick to have Seth’s features altered to resemble those of her brother.

Was she to spend the next hour on a plane sitting beside someone with whom she’d just made love, knowing he might be a man possibly involved in terrorism? The thought boggled her mind. And why were the Feds investigating her? Because she was with Seth?

She cleared her throat and scrambled to find a plausible response to Julio’s questions. “The Aldridge and Lawson cases aren’t ours—I was helping out a friend.” Think fast, Charlie, think. “Something made me wonder if their accident was somehow related to George Martin’s murder, considering the time frame—Lawson was killed not long after Martin was supposed to fly to Mexico, Guadalajara to be precise. Can’t figure it out, though, so by all means, knock yourself out.”

That seemed to satisfy Rodríguez, but his call triggered a reminder of something that had been needling her.

“Julio, do me a favor?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

Charlie gave him the name of the doctor in California who had presided over the majority of Seth’s surgeries. “Find out who paid Mason’s bills if you can. I’m interested to see if it was the sister.”

“What does he have to do with any of this?” Charlie considered her words. “It’s complicated. I’d rather have concrete proof if you can get it.”

He agreed then updated her on a couple of other things and rang off, telling her he had a lunch date.

Charlie was stunned. First Rogers, then the Feds checking on Seth? Well, on him and Aldridge. Now me? What are the odds? We all have to be linked. What is the one thing or person that links us? George Martin?

She covered her face with her hands, letting her fingers massage her temples. She could handle the disappointment if Seth was involved with Marjorie Lawson—it’d hurt, but she’d survive. She couldn’t honestly say the same if he was a party to murder. What had he done to warrant federal involvement? And what had she done, other than love a man with no memory?

Charlie gave herself a mental shake. He hadn’t done anything—neither had she. Aldridge and Lawson were American citizens. It made sense that the CIA would be involved, no matter who was at fault.

It was the terrorist theory that worried her.

She lifted her head from her hands and flipped the switch from distraught female to savvy detective. Scrutinizing Seth from hairline to shoe heels, she monitored his gait, sure and steady, his hands as they hung by his sides without clenching, his eyes, focused yet quickly darting when a sudden movement captured his attention. A baby lifting a rattle to shake in the air, a woman crossing her legs, a man catching his cap as it fell from his head. Seth noticed it all, unobtrusively unless a trained cop had him in her sights.

He was too alert, not laid back enough, to be a mere escort. The man exuded sex appeal, sure, but Seth was nobody’s boy to be bossed about and told how to dress or where to go. She couldn’t see him as an escort, which left…

“CIA?” Seth looked from one man to the other. They’d been at the gate when he and Charlie had left the ramp in Houston. Seth’s first impulse upon seeing them, especially the taller one, had been to fight. To reach for the nearest object that could separate the man’s head from his shoulders.

“Whoa!” When the shorter of them held up his hands and cautioned his partner to back off, he reminded the taller guy, “He’s had a head injury, remember? But he’s still one of us. Give him a few moments to get his bearings.”

Seth shook his head. “I’m CIA?”

The taller man, Runnels, nodded and put the gun he’d drawn away, but something about him set Seth’s nerves on edge. Runnels’ expression changed from one of cold calculation to wary sympathy. “You don’t remember me?”

“Not really.” Seth looked from Runnels to Stone. “I worked with both of you?”

Stone patted him on the shoulder, and his eyes seemed genuinely sad. “It’ll come back to you, Seth.”

Charlie had remained silent during the encounter, and when the news he’d finally absorbed had settled, Seth reached out to hold her hand. The action raised eyebrows on both Stone and Runnels. Charlie, on the other hand, didn’t so much as flinch. Her hand felt clammy rather than her usual warm temperature. Her posture alarmed him as well. She stood ramrod straight as if someone had a knife pressing against her.

He couldn’t resist releasing her hand and touching the small of her back. The muscles just above the waistband of her trousers tensed, and he knew she was upset, but he wasn’t sure why. He figured she’d be glad he’d finally discovered who he was.

“Guess you’d better cowboy up,” she said, moving away from his touch. “I’m sure these men have a lot to discuss with you.”

“Actually, with both of you, ma’am.” Runnels gave her an apologetic but firm look. “Our car is parked out front.”

This time it was Charlie who lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid of getting a ticket by one of Houston’s finest?”

Runnels touched his jacket that hid his badge. “Not with one of these.” He motioned for them to follow them out of the airport.

The trip from their gate to the parked car, which had yet another suit as sentry, was short. The man waiting with the car tossed a set of keys to Stone, gave a small salute and turned on his heel.

“Another of ours who was in the neighborhood,” explained Runnels. “He has to board a plane for Borneo, so we gave him a lift.”

“Where are we going?” Charlie asked, once she and Seth were settled in the backseat of the Lincoln. She touched the leather upholstery, her fingers trailing close to Seth’s leg, but when he reached for her hand she snatched it away and smoothed her slacks.

The two Feds exchanged a quick look but refrained from answering.

“Okay.” Her voice was low and dripped sarcasm.

Runnels sighed. “There are some things we need to discuss with both of you in our office. It’ll keep until we’re there, and we’re only a few minutes away.”

Most likely my last assignment, thought Seth. They probably want to ask me about my last memories, what I remember if anything, what really happened in Mexico. As if I know. He studied the backs of the men before them, the shapes of their heads, their necks, hands, shoulders. Was he like them? Staid, stoic, so straight-laced they sat like they had sticks up their asses?

Seth glanced at Charlie, who was still silent as a tomb, as if she was still taking all of it in and processing it. Welcome to my world. He hadn’t told her about the flashes he’d been getting, not exactly full-blown memories, but snapshots from a photo album whose story didn’t make sense. A face, a scent, a voice or a name. The memories were coming in piece by piece, much like he imagined the car accident he was in. Swift, in actuality, but demonically slow as his mind’s projector ran the movie.

He hoped something at the CIA office would unlock a few more doors in his memory bank.

That memory bank should have remained locked. Forever. Seth sat, stunned, silent, listening as Stone and Runnels explained, in front of Charlie, that she had been his mark, his assignment.

At first, Charlie had gasped, and Seth had caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she’d turned from them, from him, to stare out of the fifth-floor windows. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage as she struggled to leash the rage he was sure was building.

He almost felt sorry for Runnels and Stone as they paused uncomfortably, allowing Charlie and Seth to register the news.

“The police had jurisdiction over the dating service until our guy got killed, but we weren’t ready to let anyone know Martin was ours.” Stone drummed his fingertips against the desk between him and Runnels and Seth and Charlie. He turned to address Charlie. “We let the police think what they wanted, do their investigation, draw their own conclusions, but we had Seth buddy up to you to see what information your department had on Martin’s disappearance.”

“Wouldn’t it have made better sense to simply ask us?” She set her jaw, and her eyes glistened.

Runnels shrugged. “Probably, but the powers that be wanted everything kept covert a while longer.” He indicated Seth. “Then he got himself lost.”

“I wasn’t lost,” Seth seethed. “I was comatose.”

“You were still out of play, my friend.” Stone’s tone was gentle.

“I was really important to all of you, wasn’t I, friend?” Sarcasm laced the last syllable of Seth’s sentence. “That why it took you so long to contact me?”

Stone looked sad for a moment. “We were under orders to see how much you’d find out if you believed you were Mason Aldridge.”

So I was just supposed to get close to Charlie in the beginning. Not fall in love with her, Seth pondered. Damn it. How could he have been so callous as to have used her to find out more about the Martin case? How could he, as a professional, have allowed himself to fall in love with her?

He knew instantly—it would have been more than difficult. It would have been impossible to have spent time with Charlie and not fallen for her.

“So that’s why he remembered my phone number,” Charlie mused from her stance at the window.

“No,” Seth disagreed. “It was more than that.”

She whirled, unmindful, or so it seemed at first, of the agents in the room with them. “Really? How do you know? How will we ever know for sure?” She cast a scornful glance at Stone and Runnels. “At least they’ve cleared up a few things, like why me, why Mexico—it was because Martin was one of them, one of you…whatever you are. Spies?” Charlie snorted. “So are you all like double-o-seven types who travel to foreign countries in search of evil?”

“It’s not like that, ma’am,” said Stone.

Charlie shook a finger at him. “I am not your mother—I’m a police officer. You call me ma’am one more time instead of Detective Vargas, and I’ll shove my badge so far down your throat it’ll take a proctologist to find it.”

She glared at Seth. “What? Detective Vargas doesn’t work for you? It’s not like I was more than a job, right?” Then she seemed to be thinking. “Did Bemo know about this?”

The two Feds looked guilty. Stone finally nodded. “He knew. We had to ask him to keep it from you, though.”

The look on her face said it all, her shock and dismay. “How long has he known?” demanded Charlie. “Not that it matters in the scheme of things, but I’d like to know just how long I was under a federal microscope with my boss’s knowledge.”

“Not until you were in Mexico,” Runnels told her. “We’d figured out Seth might be regaining his memory, and when we saw that you were traveling with him, we had to know what the two of you were doing in Guadalajara. If he’d blown his cover, it would have been disastrous for the bureau.”

“Great.” Charlie nodded. “Thanks. Sincerely.” She cut Seth another hard look. “Information at last.”

Seth took a long, shuddering breath. He detected no sarcasm, despite the words. What he heard and felt were deep-seated pain and disappointment in Charlie’s voice. This had to be killing her, especially after they’d made love right before coming home. He felt like an ass, but there was nothing he could say or do that would make any difference to her now. Even if he regained full memory and tried convincing her that he’d loved her all along, she’d never believe him, not after today.

Stone walked behind his desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers, rifling through them then dividing them and passing half to Seth. “I hope our revelation won’t affect the job we need the two of you to perform.”

Charlie glanced from one man to the other. “What? Now I have to work with him?”

Stone handed Charlie the other half of the paperwork. “We need the two of you to continue as if you were a couple, to be seen, to chat up certain things, to draw the man we suspect of murdering Martin into the open.”

Charlie shoved the papers back at him. “No, thanks.”

Stone quietly but firmly handed them back to her, tapping her on the chest with them when she didn’t open her hands to receive them. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Detective. We’ve already spoken with your captain, and both departments are working together now to bring this man to justice. He’s murdered two of our agents and nearly killed another.” He indicated Seth. “Surely, you see the importance of your participation.”

“Two?” Seth asked. “Lawson was the other?”

“Right,” said Runnels. “When Martin didn’t show up for their rendezvous in Guadalajara, you were sent. The two of you had attended a stockholders meeting of Aldridge Enterprises and were on your way back to your hotel when you were run off the road, most likely by Mason. We know he was there because of airport security. We believe he followed you, tried to kill you, then came home while you were in the hospital and Lawson was in the morgue.”

Seth rubbed his eyes. “So the Mexican police had it right all along. That’s why I kept seeing Lawson’s profile. She was driving.”

“Right.”

Seth continued. “I’m confused. So who the hell was driving which car?”

Stone chuckled. “I’m not surprised—it’s pretty tangled. You were riding with Marjorie, on your way to attend a function at the hotel as our undercover operatives. Dorinda and Doug Wilkerson were in the other car. As for Mason Aldridge, nobody knows where he was at that time.”

Runnels sat on the edge of the desk across from Seth. “We’re not sure what happened to the real Aldridge, but he was involved with smuggling terrorists into our country via Rogers’s business, the escort service. These men and women would enter through customs, travel as far as Houston, where Rogers trained them, then travel to various parts of the country to work with others like them. We don’t know how many cells there are, how many escort services Rogers truly owns, or who else is involved, but it’s a big operation.”

Charlie held up her hands. “Illegal aliens…terrorist transports?”

Stone nodded. “We know you’re familiar with a different kind of illegal alien problem, what with the Texas border bumped up against that of Mexico. What we’re referring to are illegals from countries other than Mexico. They’re being smuggled in from Mexico, transported via the dating service loop.” He shrugged. “Not all of them are being handed off to the dating service, of course, but they are entering the country mixed in with others who are simply here to find work or attend school. Makes those working for the dating service more difficult to catch.”

“We’ve tracked at least two hundred illegal aliens during the past eighteen months, and we’re pretty sure they all arrived thanks to Aldridge and Rogers. Some of them, as we said, find jobs, attend college, while others within the same families are recruited to work for the escort service.”

Charlie’s mouth gaped. “That many?”

Stone nodded. “These men and women working for the dating service must have families, friends, people with whom they relate. Otherwise, they’d be too easy for us to catch. Their governments don’t send them over here flying solo. They’re given families, backgrounds, loved ones, so that they blend in with our culture.”

“Fellas, I’m not sure I’ll be much use to you,” Seth admitted. “I haven’t had a gun in my hands since I’ve been out of the hospital, and I can’t remember much—short-term memory problems more than long-term.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stone said, coming to join them. “You won’t be issued a weapon, not until you pass muster with the powers that be. But you’re still technically engaged by the CIA, so you have a job to do, regardless.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Whoa. You want us as sitting ducks, don’t you? That’s what this is about—you’ve said as much. You need someone to draw Rogers into the open.” She waved her arms expressively. “If he’s already killed two of your agents, what makes you so certain you can protect us, especially if Seth has no way of defending himself? That’s a suicide mission you’re feeding us.”

Bile rose in Seth’s throat. She made him sound like a victim, and regardless of his memory, he was pretty damned sure he’d never been the type to roll over and wait for someone to kill him. “You think I can’t defend myself or protect you?” he blurted out.

“Oh, don’t get your boxers in a twist,” she snapped. “This isn’t about ego, it’s about self-preservation.”

Seth pounded the desk. “Bring it on. I have a lot more at stake here than you realize, babe.” Pride be damned, he had Charlie to think about, not just his hide.

“Hold on,” Stone said, pushing his palms toward them. “Nobody’s asking you to die for the cause, just to be seen in certain circles, to let him get close enough to talk to you. We’d need you to wear a wire, of course, and to pretend Seth is really Aldridge. We need him on tape.”

Seth shook his head. “Why didn’t whoever manages the escort service approach me before now?”

“Probably for the same reason we didn’t—to see how much you really knew.”

Seth sighed. “Okay. I get it now. Even though I didn’t know shit, neither of you could possibly know that unless you watched me and kept me close.”

Charlie squinted and leaned closer, as if examining a bug under a microscope. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but last time I checked, killers don’t do a lot of chatting.”

Stone folded his arms across his chest and nodded. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you, Detective Vargas…” And he made a point of emphasizing the title she’d thrown at him earlier. “But you’re the one Seth can thank for having put him in Rogers’s gun sites. You’re the reason Seth has a target on him now. If you hadn’t gone to Rogers asking so many questions about George Martin…”

“I was working a cold case,” Charlie shot back. “I was doing my job!”

“You were nosing around to see what had happened to your boyfriend, Miss Vargas,” Stone said, rising and placing his hands on his hips. “You didn’t give a damn about George Martin.” He held up his hands again, palms facing her. “Not that I believe you don’t do your job well, but Martin meant nothing to you.” He stuck a thumb in Seth’s direction. “My pal over here, however, had gotten under your skin, and you couldn’t handle it that he’d simply dropped out of sight. You went back to face Rogers more because of Seth than George. You just wanted to know where your boyfriend was, not who had killed George.”

“You think you know me pretty well, don’t you?” Her question wasn’t defensive, more a statement of surprise.

“I know you better than you’d like, lady. That’s what bugs you.”

By then, Seth and Runnels had moved toward the center of the room to get between Charlie and Stone, both of whom were red-faced and seemed itching for a verbal brawl.

Seth felt compelled to defend Charlie, even though he knew the little spitfire could handle her own against anyone. He felt torn between the job he couldn’t perform and the woman he loved, and the realization that he loved her ate at him like a cancer. He knew in his heart she felt nothing but remorse, anger, bitterness and disappointment that she’d ever become involved with him.

“Knock it off, Stone.” Seth stood and moved between the two antagonistic law officers.

“I can take care of myself.” Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she lifted her head proudly, almost defiantly. She swallowed hard enough for him to see a slight movement in her throat, and she wet her lips before facing Stone and continuing. “What is it you need from me? Do I call my captain, or does he know where I am?”

Stone’s expression softened, noted Seth, and his voice had a more even, kinder tone. “Bemo knows. We’ll need you two to spend a couple of nights in a hotel while we check out your apartment. You don’t have any pets, do you?”

When Charlie shook her head, he continued, “We’ll sweep the room for bugs, place a couple of our people to watch your building and floor, and install a camera or two so we can see who’s watching you.”

“But nobody knows where I live,” Charlie protested.

Runnels shook his head. “You’d be surprised. If Rogers knew enough to follow you to Mexico—”

Seth’s mind snapped to attention. “What?” He and Charlie exchanged disbelieving glances.

He could tell it had slipped the other two men’s minds to inform them.

Charlie looked as if her knees were buckling, and she reached for the nearest chair and sat. “Rogers…was in Mexico?”

“He was on your flight.” Stone’s voice was quiet, matter-of-fact.

Stone opened the door to the small office and quietly asked someone for a few bottles of water to be delivered. Seth felt as if someone had kicked him in the teeth.

When Stone turned back from the door, a flash of recognition, something…it triggered a montage of scenes that flitted across Seth’s mind. He and Stone both laughing, doing mundane things like watching television together—a football game, Texas against Oklahoma.

When Runnels turned around and caught Seth’s eye, Seth gave a brief nod. “We were all friends?” he asked.

For the first time since they’d all met at the airport, Runnels smiled. “You and I trained together, and you were best man at Stone’s wedding.”

“How long have you two known one another?” Seth asked, directing his question to Stone.

“We only met a couple of weeks ago,” Stone said. “But we’ve had some good talks about you.”

Charlie obtrusively cleared her throat. When they all looked at her, she crossed her legs at the ankles, tucked them under her chair and leaned forward. “Charming as this little reunion has been, I do have a life, family, a job, so can we get through this as quickly as possible so I can go home?”