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The conversation was one-sided as he listened, and his eyes narrowed upon Nikki, his lips compressing.
“Gracias, I’ll tell her,” Trent said before slowly replacing the receiver.
Nikki’s insides froze.
“That was Nurse Sánchez from the hospital. She says Mrs. Martínez’s friend was a girl named Rosa Picano. She works at a hotel on the south end of the bay. Want to tell me about her?”
Leveling her gaze straight at him, she said, “I’ve wanted to tell you about her for a long time. She saw me in the hospital. She knew me. Called me Señorita Carrothers. Not Señora McKenzie.”
One of Trent’s eyebrows lifted. “And that surprises you?”
“Yes. Why would she call me—”
“Because there was a mix-up when we got here. At the first hotel. You signed us in while I took care of the baggage, and all of your credit cards, all of your identification, even your passport, is in your maiden name. It was easier to go by Carrothers.”
“The girl didn’t remember a husband.”
“That’s because I dealt with the manager directly because the plumbing in our first room didn’t work.”
She wanted to trust him, to believe in him and yet she couldn’t. There were too many things left unexplained. “You’re telling me the truth?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what I can do to convince you,” he said in irritation. “Come on. We’ve got a plane to catch.” He propelled her to the elevator and through the lobby to the front of the hotel where a taxi was waiting in the circular drive. A copper-skinned cabbie shoved their bags into the trunk. “You can’t do this,” she hissed as Trent forced her into the back of the cab, climbed in beside her and ordered the driver in Spanish to get them to the airport.
“Watch me.”
“I’ll scream,” she warned.
“Go right ahead. We’re married, and as I told you before—on this island a husband’s rights are rarely questioned. If I say something is good for you, whether you like it or not, that’s the way it is.”
“That’s barbaric!”
His eyes glittered in anger. “Absolutely. That’s why it works.”
“But—” She wanted to argue, to scream, to pummel him with her fists as the cab driver turned onto the concrete slab of a road that drove them straight to the airport, avoiding the city of Santa María altogether. Her spirits sank as low as they had been since she’d woken up in the hospital all those days ago. At that moment she hated Trent!
“I want a divorce,” she blurted out angrily.
His answer was a slow, sexy smile.“That’s not what you were begging for last night.”
Without thinking, she drew her hand back and started to slap him, but he caught her wrist in mid-arc and clucked his tongue. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
“If you were me, you’d probably shoot me with that damned gun you’ve got a permit for!”
“Probably,” he allowed, his smile returning as the palm trees gave way to the airport, which was hardly more than a few low-slung buildings and a couple of cracked runways. Nikki had no choice but to follow him into the terminal. She couldn’t scream that she was being kidnapped, because he was only taking her home, and truth to tell, she did believe that there was some sort of danger on the island. Why else his case of nerves?
But there was something else here on Salvaje, something that had drawn her to this little speck in the Caribbean, some reason she had wanted to come here in the first place, and whatever that reason was, she knew in her gut that she hadn’t found it.
She was still fuming as they boarded the small plane. She sat near the window, strapped her seat belt over her lap and listened to the flight attendant go over the safety procedures. She knew that Trent was watching her, but as they took off, she stared out the window, to the wild island where she’d lost her memory, the paradise she’d come to visit for her honeymoon, the place where she’d lost her heart to a man she alternately hated and loved. Oh, what a horrid mess!
The plane circled, and high above Salvaje, Nikki Carrothers McKenzie looked down to see the crumbling mission visible through the fronds of ancient palms. Her heart jerked painfully as she remembered her nightmare and the first day she’d woken up in the hospital and found herself married to a man she couldn’t remember. Her throat grew tight as the island disappe
ared from sight.
They flew in silence until they reached Miami, where they went through customs, transferred planes and headed west. Nikki watched the movie, a romantic comedy she’d seen before, rather than have to make small talk with Trent. She dozed, ate, and after one final transfer, was on her way to Seattle.
Seattle. The largest city on Puget Sound. Sprawling around Lake Union and Lake Washington, with a series of freeways that could barely handle the traffic that had grown in recent years. She remembered the downtown area as incredibly hilly—she’d long ago given up a manualshift car—and the waterfront as cool and windy.
She’d worked for the Observer for…five or six years. Leaning back against the headrest, she thought about her job and couldn’t remember particular incidents, but knew that she had a deep dissatisfaction with her work and a burning need to prove that she was as good as most of the men on the staff. Slowly a memory surfaced.
