Memories After Midnight Read online

  Dylan had forgotten how Alex felt in his arms…

  How her body fit around his and seemed to become a part of him. He ached to give her the kind of solace they both needed, where they could lose themselves in each other and forget about what was going on around them.

  As he lay back with Alex asleep against him, he wished for those nights again, wondering what would happen if they could go back to that happier time. Would a second chance mean they could avoid the pitfalls they’d encountered before? If she didn’t regain her memory, who could say whether she’d revert to the power-hungry lawyer she’d been toward the end of their marriage? And if she did regain it, well, things would likely just go back to the way they’d been anyway.

  Alex had broken his heart once before. Dylan didn’t intend to let it happen again.

  Dear Reader,

  I adore bad boys. They’re forbidden—which just makes them more appealing! But then there are the fun-loving good guys. They’re the ones who make us laugh and love them all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe, there’s enough of that bad boy inside them to create an interesting mix.

  That was Dylan Parker from the beginning. I always felt that while I originally created Dylan as a sidekick, he took over and demanded his very own life. Maybe it was a form of payback that I paired Dylan back with his ex-wife, Alexandra—his polar opposite. I gave them a second chance to have what they deserve, a chance for the very best of this cynical hero to shine.

  I hope you enjoy Alex and Dylan’s rediscovery of each other as much as I enjoyed writing their story.

  Best,

  Linda Randall Wisdom

  Memories After Midnight

  LINDA RANDALL WISDOM

  Books by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  No More Secrets #640

  No More Mister Nice Guy #741

  In Memory’s Shadow #782

  A Stranger Is Watching #879

  Mirror, Mirror #1049

  Small-Town Secrets #1131

  Roses After Midnight #1235

  After the Midnight Hour #1367

  Memories After Midnight #1409

  Silhouette Romance

  Dancer in the Shadows #49

  Fourteen Karat Beauty #95

  Bright Tomorrow #132

  Dreams from the Past #166

  Snow Queen #241

  Silhouette Special Edition

  A Man with Doubts #27

  Unspoken Past #74

  Island Rogue #160

  Business as Usual #190

  A World of Their Own #220

  LINDA RANDALL WISDOM

  grew up never imagining being anything other than a writer. In high school, her journalism instructor encouraged her fiction writing, but in college, her journalism advisor told her she wouldn’t get anywhere in fiction writing while women were needed in the newspaper field. She wasn’t totally derailed, just delayed for a while until the day she wrote her first two novels, Dancer in the Shadows and Fourteen Karat Beauty, which she sold to Silhouette Romance on her wedding anniversary in 1979. From that day on, she never looked back.

  She lives in Southern California with her husband, a spoiled rotten terrier/Chihuahua mix named Bogie, who’s also on her Web site, four parrots, five Siamese fighting fish and a tortoise named Florence. All of her pets have shown up in her books. She also likes to include at least one true incident in each book. Many of them have come from friends and prove that truth is stranger than fiction!

  She can be contacted through her Web site: www.occrwa.com/lindawisdom.

  A heartfelt thank-you to police investigator (ret.)/mystery author Robin Burcell for patiently answering any questions I had about forensics. You are the greatest!

  Any errors made are entirely my own.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Prologue

  How could she have been so stupid?

  Alexandra Spencer took great pride in having a strong instinct for trouble. A corporate attorney, she was known for her ability to ferret out a client’s deepest secrets and never failed to uncover the truth if she felt a client was lying to her.

  So how did she miss something this important?

  Dylan would have a field day if he knew about this. Her insides tightened at the idea of her ex-husband finding out his ex-wife, who always made sure every i was dotted and every t crossed, had a dirty client that could land her in trouble with the bar association. Just because she could state she wasn’t aware of her client’s illegal doings didn’t mean it couldn’t come back to bite her in her integrity.

  And all because she found an unlabeled CD in her briefcase and took a quick look at it on her notebook computer only to discover she’d somehow picked up something that didn’t belong to her—but displayed clear-cut evidence of her client’s nefarious activities. Now she wished she had thrown the CD away. If it ever came to light, her reputation would be in shreds and disbarment would have been only the beginning of her career’s downward spiral.

  Once upon a time Detective Dylan Parker would have teased her mercilessly that she should know better than to read CDs that didn’t belong to her. Too bad she hadn’t thought about that before opening the files. She wished she could make the damn CD suddenly disappear and erase all memory of its contents. What a mess!

  Thoughts of her ex-husband had been stealing into her mind lately, just as they had last year on the anniversary of their divorce. Alex knew why. She’d never failed at anything—until her marriage. But then she hadn’t tried as hard as she could have, had she? Instead, she worried more about pleasing her clients than holding her marriage together. That particular thought bounced her mind back to the dirty client who now sent her temper soaring.

  Her week-long business trip to San Francisco had gone smoothly, until the last day. For a woman who believed in keeping her life tidy, she sure managed to whirl up a mess in a short amount of time.

  With swift steps, she headed across the airport parking lot to her car, vowing that first thing in the morning she would waste no time in tossing said client to the curb. Time to take out the trash.

  “This might as well be one of those old British thrillers,” Alex muttered as she searched for her car in the dusk—and the misty gray fog rolling in didn’t help matters any. The mercury-vapor lamps that had just flickered on did nothing more than lend an ominous glow to her surroundings. It seemed as if her plane had barely landed when the fog descended on the land. She could hear the faint hum of the security guard’s cart patrolling the other end of her aisle, and a muffled conversation between two men who were having trouble finding their cars in the next. With the chilly fog swirling around her, she knew how they felt, though she also knew she had nothing to worry about as she finally spotted her car. Still, she felt unusually tense—even uneasy—and realized she’d feel a lot better once she rid herself of her slimy client.

  She shifted her briefcase strap over one shoulder while pulling her small suitcase behind her, using her thumb to hit a speed-dial number on her cell phone. As soon as she heard the recorded greeting she tapped out the two numbers that would connect her to her assistant’s voice mailbox. “Hi, Janet, it’s me back from the trip from hell. I know I say it every time, but this time I mean it. From now on it’s the train. I can’t handle flying in those small commuter airplanes.” Alex finally reached her car and stopped at the driver’s door, disarming the alarm with the keyl
ess remote that also unlocked the door. “I need you to pull some files for me. I have to make some—”

  Rapid footsteps sounded behind her. She started to turn but a sharp pain to the side of her head blocked all thought. It happened so swiftly she didn’t have time to cry out. Alex’s head connected with the unforgiving metal door of her car; then her world turned black.

  Chapter 1

  A fiery spike bored its way into the side of Alex’s head. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought her way past the blistering pain.

  “Hey, sweetheart, think you can open your eyes for me?” The gruff voice only added to the agony.

  She carefully opened one eye a mere slit, then quickly closed it as the bright overhead light sent more pain slicing through her head.

  “I’m now blocking the light. Why don’t you try opening your eyes again,” the voice suggested.

  When Alex opened her eyes she found the lack of direct light more tolerable. The man bending over her wore rumpled green surgical scrubs.

  “Where…?” She managed to push the word past her lips.

  “You’re in the emergency room at the Sierra Vista Medical Center,” he said, straightening up. “And you look good—except for some trauma from the blow to your head, but that’s expected.”

  She frowned and quickly discovered even that small motion sent that fiery spike driving down even harder. She started to lift her hand to her head, but the doctor clasped it and kept it down.

  “Not a good idea. We’ve still got to clean you up and put in a few stitches.”

  She licked her dry, cracked lips. “What happened to me?”

  “You were mugged in the airport parking lot. A passenger on your flight saw the attack and called Security. Unfortunately, the thief got away. I’m afraid you ended up with a nasty gash. Seems that you were hit on the head, then you fell against your car.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she murmured, fighting to understand his words. Why was she at the airport? She hated to fly.

  “Muggings never do,” he said crisply. “Think you can answer a few questions for me?”

  She hoped they were easy ones. “I’ll try.”

  “First off, how many fingers am I holding up?” He held up his forefinger and middle finger.

  “Two and please don’t tell me you’re holding up one and I’m seeing double.”

  He smiled. “Nope, we’re doing okay there. How about any nausea or dizziness?”

  At his question Alex suddenly turned green. The doctor took immediate stock of the situation and handed her a small basin just in time.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling horribly embarrassed.

  “One of the side effects from head injuries, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Better now?”

  “Nothing that an aspirin couldn’t take care of. Maybe two—” she paused “—or two hundred.” She cautiously lifted her hand to push a stray strand of coppery-red hair out of her face. She feared she looked as bad as she felt, and she felt as if she had been in the middle of a cattle stampede.

  The doctor smiled. “That’s something we can take care of after we make sure you’re in one piece. Do you know what your name is?”

  She was relieved the questions were still easy. “Alexandra Elaine Spencer Parker.”

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Tuesday,” she said without hesitation.

  “What about the date?”

  Alex opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I—ah— I…” Tears sprang to her eyes as she struggled to remember the date. She felt confused and frustrated. “I’m not sure.”

  The doctor didn’t say anything as he jotted some notes on her chart. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You had a pretty bad blow to the head. Head injuries like this can affect the memory. It’s a protective process since you instinctively want to forget what brought about the pain. Running some tests will also help us see how much trauma you’ve suffered and how to treat it. Once they’re done, I’ll stitch you up,” he said.

  Alex may have had the headache from hell, but she was still a lawyer. She could smell a lie a mile off and this man was lying to her.

  “There’s more to it than a bad headache, isn’t there?” she asked.

  “The laceration on your scalp was pretty deep. As a precaution we just want to make sure there isn’t any further damage,” he said. “Head wounds can be tricky, so I like to be doubly sure.”

  “My husband!” She started to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down. “Did anyone contact him?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.” He used a soothing voice.

  Alex frowned. “I do remember that I was in here about a year ago for a sprained ankle.”

  “Then you’re in our records.” He nodded at the nurse, who moved off. “You just lie here and rest.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbled.

  The doctor smiled sympathetically. “There’s an officer out front who’s waiting to talk to you about the attack.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell him. I really don’t remember anything about what happened,” she said, then laughed. “Since I can’t remember the date, I guess I couldn’t be expected to remember being robbed, could I?”

  “I can tell him you’re not ready to speak to anyone just yet,” the doctor said. “You need to get down to Radiology for those X-rays.”

  “No, let me talk to him now and get it over with.” She lay back against the pillow.

  He nodded reluctantly. “I’ll have him come on back, then.”

  Alex was convinced the baby-faced officer was no more than twelve years old. She assumed he must have recently joined the Sierra Vista police force since he didn’t look familiar to her. She hadn’t been married to Dylan for very long, but she had come to know many of the officers and detectives in the town’s police force.

  As the officer questioned her about the attack, she realized she really did remember nothing. She looked at the doctor with questions in her eyes.

  “Loss of memory from a head injury like that isn’t unusual,” the doctor explained. “Trauma to the head has been known to block out memories of recent events.”

  “But why do I remember the day of the week but not the date?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “We don’t know why some things are retained and others aren’t.”

  Alex closed her eyes. Everything would be fine now. They’d call Dylan and he’d take care of everything.

  “Hey, Parker, I thought it was your turn to host the poker game,” Ron Davis, a detective in Narcotics, said as he tossed a chip onto the table.

  “Franklin and I switched since he goes on vacation next week.” Dylan Parker hadn’t looked at his cards yet. He liked to wait until it was his turn to ante up.

  The Domestic Crimes detective felt lucky tonight. He might even go home with money for once instead of leaving most of it with Davis or Greer, who was Davis’s partner.

  The fast-paced tune from the 1970s television show Batman sounded loudly in the room. The other four detectives stared at the origin of the tune coming from the cell phone clipped to Dylan’s belt.

  “Hey, Batman, your bat phone is ringing. Commissioner Gordon must need a hero.”

  Dylan Parker looked down at the cell phone. He checked the Caller ID. “I am off duty tonight,” he muttered, then reluctantly answered the phone. “Parker.” His body froze as he listened to the caller’s words.

  The other four men watched him intently.

  “Okay, who set this up?” he demanded. “Because whoever did will pay big-time. Trust me, this is not funny!” He impatiently listened to the caller. His expression suddenly changed. “She was what? All right, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He disconnected the call and stared at each of the men seated around the table. “So help me, if I find out this call is a joke, I will make sure the person behind it comes to a world of pain.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” one of the other detectives deman
ded.

  Dylan sighed. “That was the medical center. They said my wife was mugged at the airport parking lot and she’s in the ER.” He studied the cards he held. It would have to be his first winning hand of the evening. With a muttered curse, he threw down the cards and unfolded his six-foot-two length. The backdrop of male laughter followed him as he left the apartment.

  As a police detective with the Domestic Crimes Unit, it wasn’t Dylan’s first visit to the emergency room. Over time he’d interviewed his share of victims in the ER and been treated himself. But this was the first time he was there because the victim was someone he knew. Intimately.

  By the time he arrived at the med center parking lot, his stomach was churning.

  His and Alex’s divorce hadn’t been a pretty one. The woman knew how to extract her pound of flesh. His being forced to pay one hundred dollars per month in alimony was as good as rubbing salt in a wound. Not that the alimony was all due to Alex. The judge they’d been up against didn’t like Dylan and ordered him to pay one dollar a month—an order they all knew was like a sick joke and would have been reversed on appeal. Dylan only made matters worse by saying a few things that didn’t sit well with the judge, which caused the order to change to one hundred dollars per month. Dylan’s attorney wanted to appeal the order, but Dylan didn’t want to. He was positive a psychologist would have a field day with that scenario. A professional would have said the order left a thread, even a hostile one, between Dylan and Alex. Dylan preferred saying it gave him a chance to annoy Alex once a month.

  Dylan decided if Alex wanted alimony, fine, she’d get it, but not in the form of a monthly check. He took his revenge in more creative ways, whether it was a donation to the San Francisco Aquarium made in her name, or sending her a cactus with one hundred dollars in pennies embedded in the pot. He learned the hard way not to send her one hundred lottery tickets—her winning fifteen thousand dollars from one of those tickets still rankled.