Free Lover Unleashed by J. R. Ward Page A

some miracle his former chief of trauma would come back to him?
    Manny glanced over at her profile. Illuminated in the glow of the dash, she was still smart. Still strong.
    Still his kind of woman.
    But that was never happening now. Aside from the whole liar-liar-pants-on-fire about her death, there was a gunmetal gray ring on her left hand.
    “You got married,” he said.
    She didn’t look at him, just kept driving. “Yes. I did.”
    That headache that had sprouted the instant she’d made her appearance instantly went from grouchy to gruesome. And meanwhile, shadowy memories Loch Nessed below the surface of his conscious mind, tantalizing him, and making him want to work for the full reveal.
    He had to cut that cognitive search-and-rescue off, though, before he popped an aneurysm from the strain. Besides, he wasn’t getting anywhere with it—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach what he sensed was there, and he had a feeling he could do permanent damage if he kept struggling.
    As he looked out the car window, fluffy pine trees and budding oaks stood tall in the moonlight, the forest that ran around Caldwell’s edges growing thicker as they traveled away from the city proper and its choking knot of population and buildings.
    “You died out here,” he said grimly. “Or at least pretended you did.”
    A biker had found her Audi in and among the trees on a stretch of road not far from here, the car having careened off the shoulder. No body, though—and not because of the fire, as it had turned out.
    Jane cleared her throat. “I feel like all I’ve got is ‘I’m sorry.’ And that just sucks.”
    “Not a party on my end, either.”
    Silence. Lots of silence. But he wasn’t one to keep asking when all he got in return was I’m sorry .
    “I wish I could have told you,” she said abruptly. “You were the hardest to leave.”
    “You didn’t dump your job, though, did you. Because you’re still working as a surgeon.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “What’s your husband like?”
    Now she winced. “You’re going to meet him.”
    Great. Joy.
    Slowing down, she took a right-hand turn off onto . . . a dirt road? What the hell?
    “FYI,” he muttered, “this car was built for racetracks, not roughing it.”
    “This is the only way in.”
    To where? he wondered. “You’re so going to owe me for this.”
    “I know. And you’re the only one who can save her.”
    Manny flashed his eyes over. “You didn’t say it was a ‘her.’”
    “Should it matter?”
    “Given how much I don’t get about all of this, everything matters.”
    A mere ten yards in and they went through the first of countless puddles that were as deep as frickin’ lakes. As the Porsche splashed through, he felt the scrape on its tender belly, and gritted out, “Screw this patient. I want payback for what you’re doing to my undercarriage.”
    Jane let out a little laugh, and that made the center of his chest ache—but get real. It wasn’t like the pair of them had ever been together. Sure, there had been attraction on his part. Big attraction. And, like, one kiss. That was it, however.
    And now she was Mrs. Someone Else.
    As well as back from the goddamn dead.
    Christ, what kind of life was he in? Then again, maybe this was a dream . . . which kind of cheered him up, because maybe Glory hadn’t gone down, either.
    “You haven’t told me what kind of injury,” he said.
    “Spinal break. Between T6 and T7. No sensation below the waist.”
    “Shit, Jane—that’s a tall order.”
    “Now you know why I need you so badly.”
    About five minutes later, they came up to a gate that looked like it had been erected during the Punic Wars—the thing was hanging at Alice in Wonderland angles, the chain link rusted to shit and broken in places. And the fence it bisected? That POS was hardly worth the effort, nothing more than six feet of barbed cattle wire that had seen better days.
    The damn thing opened smoothly, however. And as they