Identity Crisis. Laura Scott
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“Oh, sure, I’m faking amnesia.” She rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Of course I don’t remember. Why would I bother to pretend?” Mallory truly looked perplexed.
To be more like Alyssa. To make me like you. Gage bit back the words before they could slip off his tongue. “Never mind. Let’s go.”
He closed and locked Mallory’s door then headed for the glass elevator. He kept his gaze straight ahead. He wasn’t particularly fond of heights. But he also refused to cave in to his fear. If anyone on a construction site knew he built tall buildings but was afraid of heights, he’d be the topic of endless jokes. Even on-site, he forced himself to manage every phase of a building project, even if that meant going up to the top.
He was glad when they reached the lobby level. Outside the sun was shining and puffy white clouds dotted the sky, the wind off the lake bringing a gust of cool air. A nice day, but he didn’t care. Alyssa was missing and he was stuck with Mallory. He couldn’t relax, not until he knew Alyssa was safe.
He glanced at Mallory, surprised when he saw her blue eyes filled with stark apprehension as she glanced around as if she’d never seen this part of the city before.
He’d wanted Mallory to come with him because he thought Alyssa’s friends would respond better to her twin. He could only assume Alyssa had told her closest friends how they’d broken up. He and Alyssa had known each other for only about three months before getting engaged, and they’d tended to keep to themselves. He had no idea what reason Alyssa had given her friends for breaking off their engagement, but he suspected Alyssa confided that he was the problem.
Mallory stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing another couple to step around her. Lost in thoughts of Alyssa, Gage followed too close and smacked his chin on her head.
“Ow.” She rubbed the top of her head. He hastily backed up, putting at least a foot of space between them. “This is so frustrating. I’m walking along like I should know where we’re going, but I don’t.”
“Over there.” Gage nodded toward his truck, parked a few car lengths down the street. “The blue pickup.”
“What about the rest of them?” She waited for several pedestrians to pass by before gesturing toward the scattered cars parked along the street. “Do you think my car is here somewhere?”
“You drive a three-year-old red Mustang convertible.” He didn’t see the car, and that was strange. Where would Mallory have left it? Near the spot where the ambulance picked her up?
“Maybe someone stole it.” Mallory scowled.
Gage didn’t answer. An old-model beige Cadillac moved slowly down the street. Odd, how it didn’t accelerate. Especially with no stop sign in sight. The clouds shifted from the sun and something glinted brightly from the partially open window of the backseat.
Long and narrow, he belatedly recognized the barrel of a gun.
“Get down!” Gage grabbed Mallory and shoved her down behind the parked cars. He dropped on top of her, protecting her body with his. Within seconds a storm of bullets showered the area around them.
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