AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You know what they say. ‘You can’t fight city hall,”’ Peggy had announced, slapping a file on Nikki’s cluttered desk. Peggy, five foot two in three-inch heels was a petite redhead with big eyes, glasses that slid to the end of her nose and a temper that matched her coloring. “I tried, Nikki.”
“I didn’t get the story.”
“‘Racketeering,’ and I’m quoting here, ‘is better handled by men. They’ll give the story the hard edge it needs.’ End of quote.” Peggy had reached in her purse, looking for a pack of cigarettes though she’d given up smoking eight months earlier. “Damn,” she’d muttered under her breath. “It’s enough to make me want to burn my bra all over again, and I gave that up in seventy-two.”
Nikki, though furious, had managed a laugh. “We can’t let them beat us.”
“They think they’re doing us a favor.”
“Oh, so now taking the good stories is chivalrous.” Nikki seethed inside. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to prove them wrong.”
“Nikki—” Peggy’s voice held a warning note.
“I think it’s Pulitzer Prize time.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Peggy said, then wrinkled her nose. “Well, actually I do, but I’m supposed to go along with the decisions of the chief editor. That’s my official stance.”
Nikki had lifted a shoulder but knew what she had to do. The next big story that came along, wasn’t going to pass her by. In fact, she’d been gathering information on a couple of stories, one of which was starting to look like it might be worthwhile—the one involving Senator James T. Crowley. “And your unofficial stance?”
Peggy pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose and her tiny chin was set in determination. “Go for it.”
Now, circling above Seattle, Nikki’s heart began to pound. So that’s how she became interested in the senator, but she couldn’t remember why. He was involved in something dirty, that much she’d determined, and somehow her trip to Salvaje—her honeymoon—was connected with the story. But how?
The plane began its approach, and Nikki glanced out the window. As they dropped through the clouds, a million lights, set in connecting grids, came into view. She tightened her seat belt. Soon she’d be home. Surely then her memory would return. She cast a glance at Trent. The mystery around him would be answered.
Her stomach twisted like a fraying rope. What if she found out they weren’t married, that for whatever reason, now that she was back in Seattle, he had no further use for her? True, she believed that he cared for her, if just a little, but never once had he claimed to love her. Her heart tore a little and she told herself she was being a ninny. For the past ten days or so this man had been the very bane of her existence. So what if she melted when he kissed her, so what if she couldn’t help staring at the way his hair fell over his forehead, so what if she tingled each time he took her hand in his?
Romantic fantasies! That’s all. She’d been alone with him on a tropical island, sensing danger and adventure. Of course she’d become infatuated with him.
But it was over. She was home. He slid her a glance that echoed her own feelings and her heart turned to ice. Frowning slightly, Trent reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrawing an envelope.
“I thought you’d want to see these,” he said cryptically as he dropped the envelope into her lap. Her heart nearly stopped beating as she recognized the package containing photographs from the film she’d left at José’s camera shop. “Go ahead, Nikki,” he said with measured calm. “Open it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nikki felt cold inside, as if a ghost had stepped across her soul. Only seven pictures had developed and those photographs were taken in a city near water, but a modern, busy city that she should recognize, a town that was far from the rustic Caribbean town of Santa María. She flipped through the few shots. Not one snapshot of Salvaje or Trent.
“Looks like Victoria,” he said, when she just stared at the photographs and felt the hot stain of embarrassment climb up the back of her neck. “British Columbia.”
She rolled her lips over her teeth. Victoria. She’d been there. Probably on her last vacation, the last time she’d used the camera.
“All that trouble for nothing,” Trent remarked as she slid the snapshots into the envelope.
Clearing her throat, she slid him a suspicious glance. “Were you spying on me?”
“I was just trying to take care of you.” His face was set in defiance, as if he dared her to argue with him. “But you never believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she admitted. The plane touched down with a jolt and the chirp of tires on the runway. Nikki stuffed the pictures into her purse. Some investigative reporter she’d turned out to be. No wonder her stories had included covering the state fair, a Boy Scout jamboree and the governor’s daughter’s wedding. Hot stuff.
Now she was no closer to knowing if she was married to Trent than she had been before.
Once in the terminal, they picked up their bags and took a shuttle to the parking lot, where Trent’s Jeep was parked. With more than its share of dents and a paint job that needed serious attention, the Jeep brought back no memories. She slid into the passenger seat that creaked beneath her weight, waited for Trent and was certain she’d never been in the Jeep before in her life.
Yet, here she was. With her “husband.” Lord, when would she ever remember?
Tires humming on the pavement, the Jeep picked up speed, melding with the thick traffic that streamed northward into the heart of Seattle. A thick Washington mist drizzled from the sky and the wipers slapped rain off the windshield as Nikki peered desperately through the glass. Certainly here, in her hometown, she would remember. She waited, crossing her fingers and silently praying that with a rush of adrenaline and the familiar sights and sounds of Seattle, she would be instantly cured and her life would be complete—a past, a present and a future.
The rain-washed streets were familiar. The bustle, noise and bright lights of the city brought a familiar ache in her heart. Wispy fingers of fog rose from the asphalt. The chill wind of October blew eastward, crossing the dark waters of the Sound and rattling up the narrow, steep streets surrounding Elliott Bay.
