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Amy awakes to find her husband Mark missing, along with her memories. Her recollections of Mark include a whirlwind courtship and a beach wedding. Amy is determined to uncover what happened to her husband. How could a man who loved her so intensely just walk away?
The police have no interest in finding Mark. They reason he wasn’t ready for marriage and he walked. She wonders if his disappearance could be associated with her work.
Ryan, a close friend and co-worker, assists her in piecing together her missing memories. As the pair work together, they find that Amy’s actual past reveals a scenario that is so horrifying that it forces them on the run, not knowing whom they can trust. Will Amy’s newly recalled memories prove fatal to both her and Ryan?
“I love you,” Mark whispered into her hair as he slipped one long, muscular leg over hers.
Amy snuggled closer to him, nuzzling his neck. Ah, she loved this time, right after a rousing lovemaking session when they were both sated and drowsy, drunk on the idea that in a world of mismatched couples, somehow they found each other. Mark’s slight snore alerted her he’d dropped off to sleep. She should get up. There was so much to do before work. Instead, she stayed, breathing in the peace of the moment.
Hard to believe she was a bride. Not that she had anything against marriage. She just hadn’t foreseen it happening to her. How could it? All she did was work at Theron under major security scrutiny. The only people she saw were other employees, with the majority being women. The confidentiality clause she’d signed forbade fraternization between employees. The company must have a reason for being so paranoid. Right now, she didn’t care. All she wanted was her husband to awaken.
“Honey, do you remember our wedding?” Using her index and middle fingers, she made slow circles across his wide shoulders and around his muscular arm. The barbed wire tattoos encircling his biceps always surprised her, not that they didn’t look good on his tanned skin. They did. No, it was that she never imagined herself as a woman with a big gorgeous husband who could easily be a male stripper or a porn star with his looks. Nope, she never expected to marry. Even if a part of her held out hope, she never expected anyone without a heavier eyeglass prescription than hers.
Mark held up one arm, stretched, and twisted it enough to make his bicep pop. He noticed her eyes following the play of his muscles. His deliberate wink made her giggle a little. Geesh, just another sign she was way out of her depth. Truth told she never dated much, period. School, then work consumed her every waking moment.
He rolled to his side, facing her, and yawned before answering. “I do remember our wedding since I was there. Plus it was only two weeks ago.”
“Yes.” All that was true, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. By mentioning the subject, he might tell her how wonderful it was or even describe it in detail. Did she expect him to gush about the meaningfulness of their vows? No way, she’d admit that she had issues bringing their wedding into focus. All she could see was a couple and minister on the beach with the sun setting in the background. With the shadows falling on them, it was hard to tell if the couple was even white, let alone if it was actually them. The sun was setting in the west, which worked since they married in Tahiti. Still, it had the same feeling of looking at a magazine ad for honeymoons.
The woman had on a short dress, and the groom was barefoot. That she could tell. They did have a whirlwind romance. Was it possible she was drunk when she married Mark? Was that why she couldn’t remember anything very well? Her hope was, by mentioning the wedding, he might also confess how wildly in love he was with her. It might ease her fears about the two of them being an odd couple.
Her Aunt Remy raised her with a healthy self-esteem. Being worthy of her handsome husband wasn’t an issue. It was more a case of like going with like. She’d heard enough comments when a couple showed with one partner being more attractive. When the woman was more beautiful, people assumed the man was rich and powerful. Charitable women might think he was charming and good in bed. Unfortunately, it never worked that way with the women. People seemed genuinely baffled and usually predicted a future break-up. Rather unfair if you asked her. Couldn’t the woman have some great trait? Maybe she was smart, interesting, and a decent conversationalist, even reasonably good looking with a slender build and short blonde hair. Her nose crinkled once she realized she’d just described herself.
The curve between his shoulder and neck beckoned her to nuzzle. The simple action reassured that they were actually married and together. Everything happened so fast. A slow roll of her body had Amy looking up at her husband who pinned her to the mattress. “I think I know what my own Dr. Death needs.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at her.
At the age of twenty, she had another chance at superhero greatness as being one of the few female soldiers trained for combat. The fact that women will be able to serve in combat soon indicates that all the witnesses to the grenade incident have retired. The grenade incident didn’t prevent her two sons or daughter-in-law from enlisting in the service. Having different last names probably helped.
Morgan recently retired from teaching special needs students to write fulltime, instead of in the wee hours of the night. With the help of her helpful husband and loyal hound, she creates characters who often grab plot lines and run with them. As for flying, she prefers the airlines now.