Page 3 of Weston

“You’re sure?” Charles “Chaz” Madden asked, his normally sarcastic voice gruff. The big, former Delta guy was rough around the edges and always had an opinion. But his loyalty was unwavering and fierce. “Because if these are the same fuckers, we’ll make sure justice is delivered, Murph.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Vengeance burned through his veins and Wes couldn’t wait to make those assholes suffer. Just like they’d made Ellie suffer. But, Wes would make sure it was one-hundred times worse.

Beside him, Corey swore under his breath while Jayson Knight and Alexander “Lex” Battle just shook their heads. Jayson had a daughter named Emma who’d recently gotten engaged and moved out. As a single dad, the empty nest syndrome was hitting him pretty hard. Lex, on the other hand, the youngest of their group at forty-five, was still reveling in the single lifestyle with no intention of ever settling down.

Across the table, Xander Hawke sat there like a statue, bright blue eyes full of something Wes could’ve sworn was hatred. But the emotion disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Normally, their group was loud and boisterous, but right now it felt like they were at a funeral.

“Wes, I need you to be sure you’re ready to go on this mission—” Brand began.

“I’m ready. Don’t you fucking dare think about leaving me behind.”

“He’s not in the best headspace,” Xander said, voice flat, and Wes glared at him, “but that’s going to work to our advantage.”

“How so?” Jayson asked, hazel eyes narrowing.

Xander laid his hands flat on the tabletop and smirked. “Because, boys, correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re about to go cut the heads off some filthy pirates. Right?”

“You’re goddamn right we are,” Wes gritted out.

Chapter Two

Ting, ting, ting, ting.

The same haunting piano melody echoed through her mind once again and she tried to hear the lyrics, but they remained out of her grasp. Just like everything else. So close, yet so far away. Mere fragments. It was frustrating as hell.

She couldn’t even remember her family or friends or where she was from, so how would she remember song lyrics? Or, why they somehow seemed important. But she had remembered her name. Or, at least, she assumed it was her name.Ellie.But that was it. No middle or last name. Technically, it wasn’t even a complete first name, just a possible nickname.

Was her full name Elle? Eleanor? Helen? Elizabeth?

With a frustrated sigh, she shoved a hand through her hair. She’d watched the blonde streaks grow out over the past year and a half, but it wasn’t like there was a salon anywhere nearby she could go for a touch-up. So she’d cut her long locks off and now the hair brushing the tops of her shoulders was a darker brown, her natural color. Of course, there was silver threaded through it, too, and though she couldn’t remember her exact age, she knew she was no spring chicken. The combination of gray streaks and grooves on her forehead placed her somewhere in her mid-forties. The deep laugh lines hinted at a happy past and she wished she knew who had made her smile so hard.

The only clear memory Ellie had was a local fisherman pulling her out of the sea and saving her life eighteen months earlier. But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t recall how she’d wound up floating in the middle of nowhere in the South China Sea. She’d had a lump the size of Texas on her head and no doubt the massive hit to her noggin had rattled her poor brain so hard that it screwed it all up, erasing her past.

Well, making it cloudy and jumbled, anyway. Things were slowly coming back, but at a trickle when she would’ve preferred a tidal wave. With no idea who she was or where she was from, Ellie stayed on the small island where the fisherman lived. Barely anyone spoke English and she earned money as a housekeeper at a nearby hotel, cleaning rooms and waiting patiently for an important fact or detail to surface in her mind. A recollection that would lead her back to her former life.

So far, nothing significant enough had come to light in the dark recesses of her mind. The more time that passed, the more she began to worry. What if her memory never came back? What if she was destined to live out the rest of her life without the answers she so desperately craved?

“Amnesia,” she grumbled. How dramatic and inconceivable. It was a plot device in a book or movie. Not real life. Yet here she was with no idea who she truly was or where she belonged. Withwhomshe belonged.

Ellie stared out over the dark, churning sea, fingers clawing through the sand. She liked to sit on the beach—especially this quiet, secluded section—and let her mind open as she searched for a way to plug the holes in her memory. She’d had a couple of epiphanies in this exact spot and yearned for more. Just small things like how much she loved daisies. Although, she supposedthe delicate flower tattooed on her inner wrist could be linked to that. Turning her arm, she studied the small white petals and wondered if it had a deeper significance.

Listening to the sound of the waves rolling in and out, she closed her eyes and mentally opened herself up to her surroundings. Birds and small critters chattering in the nearby brush, the ebb and flow of the sea, the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Breathing deeply, the pleasant ozone scent of an approaching storm filled her nostrils.

The jarring sound of a motor broke through her concentration and her eyes popped open as a memory hit her hard, lightning-fast and crystal clear, completely out of nowhere.

The motorboat moved up swiftly beside their research vessel and she looked over the side, stomach tightening in dread. Pirates. Dread quickly turned to a fear so palpable she stood there at the rail, frozen, unable to move much less warn the others.

When the five men looked up at her, she snapped into motion, quickly taking a step back. She’d been warned about the pirate problem in the South China Sea, but she hadn’t expected any trouble. Not really. They were on a small boat with research equipment. Not some fabulous yacht with safes full of diamonds and cash. Even so, Wes had made sure security accompanied her and the group of scientists.

Spinning around, Ellie ran across the deck and screamed for Paul, the former Marine whose job it was to keep her and the others safe. He appeared right away, eyes widening as he looked over her shoulder. As he reached for the pistol in a holster on his hip, a shot cracked through the salty air, and a spot of blood blossomed on Paul’s chest. He fired off two shots,staggering forward as more rounds popped. Ellie hit the deck with a cry and saw Paul go down, his gun skittering toward her.

Determined to grab it, Ellie crawled forward as fast as she could, hand reaching out…

The motor cut and Ellie snapped back to the present.Oh, God.She’d been on a research vessel that had been struck by pirates.

Rubbing her temples, trying to force the rest of the memory, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nothing else came.

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