Free Stranded with the SEAL by Amy Gamet Page A

a silently ticking clock counting down their time together until she would be without him and alone.
    “I don’t want to remember my real life,” she whispered, surprising herself with the truth in her own statement. “Please don’t make me remember,” she begged to the empty room.

16
    D usk colored the landscape purple and pink as Trevor set out on his skis. The motion of his cross-country stride was easier on his knee than the snow shoes had been, and he followed the snowmobile’s tracks in good time. As he feared, they led up the mountainside toward Steele’s compound, leaving little doubt as to the other man’s employer, if not identity.
    The tint of his goggles was too dark, and he pushed them up onto his forehead. This would be a difficult ski with the benefit of daylight. Without it, he knew his ability was limited, but he continued to follow the tracks. Even though getting back to the cabin would be far faster than this trip away from it, he calculated he only had a few more minutes before he would need to turn around.
    Up ahead, a large boulder was silhouetted against the midnight-blue sky. Hawk detected the faint smell of hot metal in the air, markedly different than the crisp forest breeze.
    It was the smell of an engine that had recently been running.
    His mysterious snowmobiler was nearby, hoping to escape detection, which made Hawk that much more certain this was not just a friendly neighbor out for a joyride. Hawk slowed his stride, careful not to look like he was stopping, as his eyes swept back and forth.
    The boulder was the most likely spot for an ambush. As Hawk closed the distance between it and him, he readied himself for the attack. He’d only have a split second to disarm the other man.
    Just as he passed the boulder, a fist reached out from behind it, heading straight for his jaw. Trevor grabbed it in midair, twisting it back before slamming it on the boulder. The man let out a pained grunt as a handgun flew out of his grip and over the boulder.
    “You don’t know when to quit, do you?” asked the man, his voice muffled behind his helmet.
    “Are you talking to me, or yourself?” Trevor punched the other man in the solar plexus.
    The squawk of a walkie-talkie came from the snowmobile. “Gallant, do you copy?”
    Recognition slammed through Hawk. The most awful image appeared in his brain, a visceral memory so ingrained in his mind he could have been standing there today.
    Ralph on the floor, bloodied and beaten but still fighting back against the big man who answered to Steele. “ Gallant, that’s enough. Tie his hands and feet, then get me my hunting knife .”
    The man from the snowmobile had the same physique as the man in Hawk’s memory, and the muscles in Hawk’s body became supercharged with adrenaline. He grabbed Gallant, ripping off his helmet, dominating the other man with his strength born of emotion. There was the face Hawk remembered. “You!”
    Hawk was going to kill Steele, but first he was going to kill this guy.
    Gallant struggled to be free, but Hawk threw him against the boulder with such force, Gallant's head hit the stone with a sickening thud. He was stunned for a half second, then rallied and fought again. Hawk elbowed him in the chin as he once again forced the big man against the boulder.
    This time when his head hit the rock, he went down.
    The radio squawked again. “Gallant, are you there?”
    Hawk stared at the man on the ground and assessed the threat he posed. Gallant was either dead, out cold, or faking, but he wouldn’t get far in the seconds it would take Hawk to answer the man on the radio. He turned and picked up the receiver. “Copy.”
    The slightest noise behind him had him whipping back around, just as Gallant rolled over the edge of the cliff.
    Hawk dropped the radio and ran to the precipice. It was too dark to see if the other man was dead or had escaped. Hawk cursed under his breath.
    The voice on the radio asked, “Any sign of our