“We have direct orders. I’m sorry, Jake. I tried to hold them off for as long as I could, but you’re the only witness. Just talk to them. Then you can be done.”

Jake held the burner phone Trent had given him close to his ear as he peeked out the blinds and into the darkness, locating the car with two agents in it parked in the driveway.

“Didn’t you guys tell MI6 anything? You clearly have more information than I do. A lot more.” Jake still couldn’t believe the woman he’d thought was a nurse was a spy. How had he gotten caught up in all of this? He wished he knew.

He went back over to the desk in his grandfather’s office, his eyes settling on the rifle on the wall. His grandfather had attempted to teach him to hunt when he was younger, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t take the shot. He couldn’t kill an animal.

But had he killed a person?

As a former Marine and FBI agent, he had to assume the answer was yes.

“We haven’t shared any intel yet,” Trent answered.

“And why is that?” Jake was curious. What was so bad the FBI couldn’t tell the British?

“Why don’t you try and get some rest? I’ll be over tomorrow.” Trent hung up before Jake could respond.

He tossed the burner phone on the desk. It slid up next to the photos he’d been looking at earlier before Alexa followed him into the office.

The photo sitting on the top of the pile was from a wedding. Jake was standing in a penguin suit next to Michael, alongside a few other guys, one of which was a guy he’d remembered from his dream the other night. The man had an Irish accent. He must have been Aiden, the man his sister told him about.

He started to reach for the photos again, but a stab of pain to his gut had him keeling over and gripping his stomach. A fresh wave of memories prickled his skin, and his spine jerked back upright as if he’d been whipped.

Muffled and indistinct voices.

Like a hot iron on the flesh, the whip ate through his skin.

His eyes burned as he opened them, focusing on what lay before him.

Then a fist cracked against his jaw.

Jake opened his eyes as the memory drifted from his mind . . . but the pain remained.

“What the hell?” He reached around, and his fingers splayed over his back. It felt like the fabric of his shirt was sticking to him. He quickly fumbled with the buttons and peeled off the shirt. He lowered his head, trying to catch his breath.

He heard a faint noise in the distance, but he couldn’t move or call out.

The sounds of screams echoed through his mind. He had no idea who was screaming—and he couldn’t make it stop.

He sank to his knees and held his hands over his ears, rocking—shaking.

When warm hands moved over his shoulder blades a moment later, he lowered his hands from his ears and swiveled around on his knees in one hot movement, pinning someone beneath him.

“Jake, it’s me.”

He could hear a female voice, but his vision blurred as he tried to know what was real.

There was the taste of gravel and dirt on his tongue.

Heat.

Fire.

Yelling.

“Jake!” someone cried. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“They’re all dead,” Jake mumbled. He lifted his hands and slid backward and into a seated position on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him as his vision came back into focus.

“Who’s dead?”

It was Alexa. Shit, had he hurt her? She was on her knees before him, her hand raised between them. “Are you okay? What happened? I knocked and called out for you, but then I heard you screaming.”

“I was screaming?” He blinked. “No.” It couldn’t be.

“What’s wrong, Jake? Talk to me. Who is dead?”

“I—I don’t know.” He dragged his palms down his face. “I don’t remember now.”

“Let’s get you up.” Alexa scooted closer to him and held her hand out between them. “You should be in bed.”

“I don’t want to be.” His warm palm met hers, and they rose together.

When he turned around, he heard her gasp. She must have seen the markings on his back. He’d been stunned the first time he saw his welted flesh in the mirror, as well.

“When was the last time you applied medicine to your back?” Her voice nearly broke as she spoke, which wasn’t what he’d expect of a stranger. Especially of a seasoned agent. Why’d she give a damn about him?

He reached down for his shirt and faced her, clutching the material between his hands. “I don’t know. It’s not exactly easy to apply myself.”

“Oh.” She rolled her tongue over her teeth as she stared at his chest. “I could do it for you.”

Jake angled his head, holding his shirt even tighter. What the hell was it about this woman that was so comforting, so easy? Her gorgeous hazel eyes held him captive for a moment, and then he lowered his head and blinked. “You don’t mind?”

“I’d like to help. Get the medicine, and I’ll meet you back in the living room.”

When Jake looked back up, she was already gone. His hand slid down his outer thigh, massaging for a moment where pain spliced through him. The fibrous bands of tissue were hard to his touch, his muscles feeling as though they were on fire. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, wondering if he should give in and take the pain meds the doctor had prescribed.

He slowly moved out of the office and to the bedroom to grab the ointment. He glanced over at the oxycodone next to the cream and curled a hand around the bottle and tossed it into the trash bin by his leg. He wasn’t sure why he had such a distaste for the meds, but his gut told him to fight through the pain on his own.

When Jake came into the living room, he found Alexa bent over in front of the fireplace.

She was wearing black tights and a long, cream sweater. The sweater had shifted up to her waist as she placed a few pieces of kindling inside the fireplace. The tights hugged her ass, and Jake took a slight step back, trying not to go stiff at the sight of the perfect body before him.

“What’re you doing?” He almost laughed when she looked over her shoulder at him, a smudge of soot on her cheek.

“I’m trying to figure this thing out. I thought it’d help you relax to have a fire, but I’ve only had fires that require the flicking of a switch.”

He tossed his shirt on the couch as he crossed the living room, forgetting the pain in his leg, his back—hell, his everywhere.

Alexa rose to her feet, and Jake stopped in front of her, his heartbeat ticking up a notch as her eyes steadied on his mouth. He swept his thumb to her cheek, wiping at the smudge there. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to step away, and she didn’t seem too interested in him moving, either. His palm remained on her cheekbone. His brows drew together as she slowly wet her lips, her eyes drifting up to meet his. The woman had killer looks—pouty lips he wanted to sink his teeth into, and a bone crushing beauty that would get any enemy of hers to spill all the secrets of his life . . .

And that was exactly the point, wasn’t it?

He stepped back, dropping his free hand from her face, his other still clutching the ointment. “We probably don’t need the fire.” He scrubbed a hand through his thick, dirty blonde hair, which had become darker than he remembered. “Shit . . .”

“What’s wrong?” Alexa folded her arms, bringing them tight beneath the curves of her breasts.

“Just pissed. I’ve already forgotten something I sort of remembered earlier. It’s like a vacuum went into my brain and sucked everything back out again. It’s weird, right?” He was standing in front of one of the couches now, the back of his jeaned knees brushing against the cushion.

Alexa unlocked her arms and stepped closer to him. “Sounds like you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress. I’m sure it must be difficult.” She placed a palm on his forearm, and her hand on his bare skin had his stomach muscles tightening.

He kept his eyes on her long, graceful fingers. “You sure you don’t mind rubbing a stranger’s back? Won’t be too weird for you?” Alexa didn’t know him, but maybe she was used to strangers since she was a female James Bond, he decided, trying to shrug off the suspicions that ricocheted through his brain.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me.” Her hand glided down his arm, and her warm skin covered his fingers, which were tightly wrapped around the white tube of cream.

He swallowed at the contact and unclenched his fist, allowing her access to the tube. “Where do you want me?”

“Um.” She scanned the room and motioned to the couch. “Not sure where you’d be the most comfortable. Would you like to sit or lie down?”

If he were to lie down with a woman who looked like she did, his injuries would be the last thing on his mind. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. But he said, “Sit.”

She tapped the tube against her chest as she studied him. “I don’t think that’d be comfortable.”

He almost laughed. “Then why’d you ask?”

She smiled.

Damned if he didn’t love her smile.

“Since we’re not lighting the fire, why don’t you go back to your room and lie down on the bed? I’ll make you some tea, and then come in and put the medicine on.”

Now he was the one smiling. “Do I look like a guy who drinks tea at night?” He shrugged. “Hell, do I look like a guy who drinks tea at any time of day?”

Her beautiful mouth opened as she squinted at him. “You have any beer, then?”

Beer, his bedroom, and her hands on his body? Was the woman out of her mind? Injury or not, he was still a man. And it felt like he hadn’t been with a woman in years. Meanwhile, Alexa was a hot MI6 agent—a fantasy come true. Well, at least for the twenty-two–year-old guy he remembered himself to be.

Alexa’s eyes dipped down to his naked chest for a moment and then found his brown eyes once again.

“You’re just trying to loosen me up so you can get information out of me,” he said, joking but not joking. He gently tapped at the side of his skull where the swelling from the accident had finally disappeared, leaving in its place only a sensitive spot near his temples. “But you can’t squeeze blood from a stone.”

“I don’t want to see you in pain.”

He stepped closer to her, his eyes pinning hers. “And why is that?” She was supposed to be a stranger, but it sure as hell didn’t feel that way. She’d felt familiar to him since the moment she stepped into his hospital room.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” She raised a brow and tipped up her chin. “Now get in bed.”

He flashed her a grin.

“Oh, bloody hell. You know what I mean.” Her sexy English accent heated his skin.

Jake left the living room, trying not to walk with a limp, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his body that he remembered as soon as she wasn’t right in front of him. Jesus, he’d take her over the oxy any day.

He flicked on the lights and stared at his bed. The gray cotton sheets were still crumpled at the bottom. He hadn’t exactly been interested in taking the time to make the bed since he’d been at the ranch. He released a breath as he sank onto the plush mattress, pressing his hands on either side of him as he waited for the sexy spy to join him.

“How are you feeling?”

He looked up from the floor. He’d been staring in a daze at the scratches there, remembering his grandfather’s hunting dogs.

“I’m great.” A smirk lit his cheek, but he stiffened at the sight of her leaning against the inside of the doorframe to the room.

Beautiful wasn’t quite a powerful enough word to describe her.

He brought a fist to his mouth for a moment as he tried to suppress his desire, and yet strove to capture the image of her in his mind before he lost, that, too.

“You think you can lie on your stomach? Will that hurt?” She stepped into the room and approached the bed, her eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” So long as he could turn over without her noticing his hard-on. He was losing his damn mind thinking about her hands on him, even if it was to apply medicine.

Jake scooted further back on the bed, his biceps flexing as he used his upper body strength to shift in the bed. His legs were throbbing, but he didn’t want to look weak in front of her, so he bit back the lick of pain that cut through him when he twisted to his stomach.

“Jake?” Her voice was soft, a whisper of seduction racing across his skin and to his groin.

“Yeah?” He raised his arms up and rested them on each side of the pillow as he peeked up over his shoulder. The weight of the bed slightly shifted as she sat down next to him.

“This might hurt.”

He lowered his head back down. “I can handle it. Besides, it’s supposed to help in the long run.” He shut his eyes.

He could hear a slight hitch in her breathing as her fingers touched his back, the cream cooling and soothing his skin. He flinched a little as her hands smoothed over his shoulder blades, and then down his spine, working the medicine in small circles over the markings on his back.

He sucked in a breath and shifted his face into the pillow, biting it a little. As much as he’d been turned on at the prospect of her fingers trailing down his back, the pain was fierce.

Her fingers lifted for a moment. “You okay?”

“Mm hm,” he murmured into the pillow.

“Jake?”

He held his head up long enough just so that she could hear him. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Then, she rubbed the medicine into his back more before her hands went to his outer arms where there were no scars. She began softly massaging there.

“What are you doing?” he asked before burying his face back into the pillow to smother a groan. Damned if it didn’t feel good.

“I thought I’d help you relieve some tension after you suffered through me touching your wounds,” she said a moment later, her voice slightly strained.

“Does it bother you? Seeing my back like this?” he asked a few minutes later, as her skilled hands worked at the base of his neck.

“It’s not easy seeing someone hurt. You risk your life to help others, and this is the consequence.”

Jake pressed his palms to the bed and did his best to push up without showing the pain.

“I’m probably not good at giving a massage.”

He swung his legs down to the floor so he could sit next to her. He rested his hands in his lap as he thought about what to say. “You’re amazing, actually. I almost forget that I survived an explosion,” he said with a smile.

Her cheeks flushed beneath the soft lighting of the sole lamp that lit the room.

“I’m just curious about something.” She was clutching the tube of cream between her palms. She didn’t look like an MI6 agent—just a woman in pain. He wondered what her story was, but knew it wasn’t his place to ask. “You said to me earlier that the world needs me. But now you’re talking as if—”

“The world does need you. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need something, too.”

He reached for her chin, tipping it up. “Who are you?” His brows slanted, his lips going tight as he stared at her in amazement.

“What do you mean?” Her voice was like silk to him, soft and beautiful.

Jake kept his hand beneath her chin. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You—what?” She had inhaled a sharp breath and started to pull away, but he brushed his hand up to her cheek, holding it to her warm skin . . . and she leaned into his touch.

“Because nothing in my damn life makes sense right now. And then you come here, and I know you’re just trying to pump me for information, but for some reason, the insanity in my head stops when you’re around. I just feel so . . . calm. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but—” He lowered his head as his hand fell on his lap.

“What?” she whispered as his gaze met hers again. “Why’d you pull away?” She slid her hand over to his, reaching for his wrist. She brought his hand up to her face again.

A lump of emotion moved through his throat as his body heated at her words, at her touch. She kept her hand on his, and he wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do. “Tell me why I’m so comfortable around you, Alexa.”

Her eyes flashed shut. “Maybe it’s because we’re both in the same line of work.”

“That’s bullshit,” he was quick to respond, and her eyes opened back up. “I don’t even remember my line of work.” He started to pull his hand away, but she tugged at it, keeping it in place as she scooted closer to him, her mouth hovering near his.

He couldn’t stop himself—his lips slanted over hers, and she moaned against his crushing kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth as his hand snaked around to the back of her head. His fingers threaded through her long, dark locks.

His heartbeat started to pound as her short fingernails grazed across his chest.

His mind skipped like a broken record, flashes of a memory slipping inside.

He’d been in a large room—colorful confetti landing on his head and shoulders. People cheering. Horns sounding.

And Alexa was there, too.

But it didn’t make sense. What he was remembering couldn’t be possible.

Jake pulled back from her and pushed up to his feet, ignoring the pain that spread through his limbs.

“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly and rose.

He raked his hands through his hair and dragged them down his face, leaving them over his mouth for a minute. This memory—it didn’t hurt. It didn’t make him sick like the others.

So, was his mind playing tricks on him?

“What is it, Jake?” Alexa took a step closer, reaching out for him, but he backed up and held his palms out between them.

“What’s going on, Alexa?”

“What do you mean?” She wet her lips and tucked her arms against her chest like a shield.

He cocked his head and studied her. “This isn’t our first kiss.”

Her lips parted. “Yeah, this morning—”

“No. We’ve done this somewhere else. Somewhere before. I know you, don’t I?”

His words had Alexa moving back until she bumped into the bed. “I—”

Jake stepped forward, his body tense and rigid. His hands snapped to his sides as he shut his eyes, trying to drag what he had remembered to the forefront of his mind. “There was a countdown. New Year’s Eve, maybe? I was standing, and you were near me—I remember looking over at you, and when everyone screamed ‘Happy New Year’s,’ I grabbed your arm and pulled you against me . . . and we kissed.”

“Jesus, Jake.” Alexa covered a hand over her mouth.

“So,” he stepped even closer to her, but she remained locked in place, simply staring at him, “tell me, Alexa, how do we know each other? And why the hell didn’t you tell me before?” His voice was sharp as a razor.

“I can’t believe you remember. They thought I could help, but I didn’t actually believe . . .”

“They who? What are you talking about?” he accused.

“MI6. When I saw you at the hospital and realized I knew you, my agency thought I might be able to help trigger your memories.”

“So you’re using me? They sent you here to Goddamn use me?” He turned away from her and lowered his head. But why was he surprised? He already knew they wanted his memories. Why wouldn’t they do whatever they could to extract them?

Her fingers on the back of his shoulder blade had him shutting his eyes.

“It’s not that simple.”

Jake spun around, almost knocking into her as he moved quickly, not caring about his injuries.

She stumbled, and then slowly brought her gaze back up to his. “I’m trying to stop a possible terrorist attack. Maybe even multiple attacks. I don’t know. I’ve been after a group of people for fifteen months now, and I think you might be able to help bring down some pretty bad people.”

“So being used for information is just another occupational consequence, huh?” A flash of anger shot through him. “And how do we know each other? Where does that fit into this plan of yours?”

Her hazel eyes darkened, the soft green overtaken by the chestnut brown. “We met at a party a year ago in London. You were visiting your sister, and that’s it—we kissed and . . .”

“So it’s some happy fucking coincidence that you and I know each other? An FBI agent and a spy?” An angry smile met his lips as he stepped away from her. “It’s like a bad joke. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think? A spy and FBI agent walk into a bar—”

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, raising a brow.

He lowered his head, fighting the urge to be sucked into the vortex of her beauty.

“You think I met you on purpose?” She laughed. “Funny. My boss thought maybe you had tried to do that to me.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, looking back at her from the corner of his eye, “it is kind of unbelievable. But then again, nothing about the last week of my life screams normal.” He gripped the bridge of his nose, trying to work through the intense emotions that were becoming more prominent than the blistering aftereffects of the explosion.

“Leave, Alexa. If you’re not going to be straight with me, then leave.”

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me the truth I’ll be all ears, but until then, do me a favor and stop pretending to give a damn about me. Get what you need from me and cross back over the ocean and go home.” He left his bedroom, in desperate need of that beer. Hell, maybe he’d even go back to the bathroom and grab the oxy from the trash bin.

“Jake.”

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle. “Go.” He remained facing the open fridge, the bottle in hand, the refrigerator door blocking her from his sight. He couldn’t face her. The last thing he needed were these awful mind games. He had enough shit to sort through in his head without someone muddying it up.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you this morning, but I—”

“Because you care about saving the world? Which is great.” A bite of sarcasm flavored his voice as he faced her. “But to hell with the consequences, right?”

He heard her sigh but made no attempt to look her way. His shoulders relaxed a little at the sound of her moving behind him.

Once she was gone, Jake slammed the refrigerator door shut and smacked the freezer door with a balled fist.

He needed out of this black hole. Sooner rather than later.