"I don't want to hurt you. I came here to help."
"We avoid detection. It's part of our training."
"Don't trust them."
Jane opened her eyes. Night time. Pebbly grey ceiling, faucet dripping faintly. She was in the new safehouse.
She groaned and shut her eyes, willing herself back to sleep. This was the only break she could get from impossible questions, crushing emptiness.
And she was starting to have dreams again. Crawling out of the duffle bag, the nun crumpling before her, the tin targets in the woods. These used to jar her awake. Now she just wanted more clues any way she could get them.
The woods. "You missed two. Do it again."
She rubbed her stomach absently. For the past few nights, she'd been dreaming about the man who'd broken in. Her…platoon mate? Friend? Handler?
He seemed surprised that she recognized him, but then…he hadn't altered his appearance at all.
Long hair, rugged beard. Each time she saw him, her synapses lit up.
He grabbed her from behind. She felt his breath in her ear. "Don't make a sound—"
She shivered. Being assaulted wasn't supposed to excite a person. But it did for her. Whenever she was fighting—defending—she felt like herself. She'd maneuvered free of him easily. But for a fraction of a second, it was nice just to be held. One mystery solved: she was definitely a hugger.
They were standing in the woods. She smiled at him.
Once, she woke up with heat swirling through her body and a fleeting image of him on her mind. She didn't forget what arousal felt like, but she couldn't tell whether it was a hint to their exact relationship or whether she just discovered what her type is.
How well did they know each other?
She couldn't remember. "Friend" seemed like the best word, but the context was missing. Who did this to them? What were their roles in this plot? Why tattoo her and erase her memory? Where has she been for 25 years? Who shouldn't she trust—
Jane sat up and downed the glass of water on her night stand.
It was compulsive. Her mind dwelled and tossed over the same issue until it was resolved. But his piece of this puzzle was gone. That's how she knew she would dream about him again tonight.
Dark eyes, strong bone structure—
She felt a twinge. He was her only tangible link to her adult past. How many others like them could possibly be out there?
The woods. She fastened his bandage and then patted his arm.
"You'll be fine."
He smiled at her, looked away.
Jane turned on her side and closed her eyes, trying to follow that memory. Instead, the image popped into her mind of him climbing into bed with her.
Nothing. No flashbacks. But that didn't stop her from imagining his chest pressed against her, or his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand wandering.
She sighed. The reverie was as comforting as it was pathetic. Shrugging, she let herself fall into the daydream. Harmless. The warmth that spread through her tempered the emptiness, at least for now, and carried her into sleep.