My eyes connected with Tyson’s for an instant, looking for his approval, which he gave with a subtle nod.
Ross and I strolled away from the others while Tyson squared off against the suits.
“I’m sorry you’ve suffered such a tragic loss. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now—confused, alone, helpless.”
“I’m uncertain,” I said with more than a hint of defiance. I wasn’t alone or helpless.
“How’s your memory?” Ross asked. “Is anything coming back to you?”
I shook my head.
He stared deep into my eyes, looking for signs of deception. “I think you’ve figured out by now that you’re probably not in IT sales.”
I nodded.
“You’re starting to realize that you’re different.”
I nodded again.
“I’m assuming that tonight, you reacted on instinct, fell back on your training, and neutralized the threat.”
“Training?”
Ross dug into his pocket and pulled out his credentials. He was, in fact, with the CIA. “Does this ring any bells?”
“No.”
“But it doesn’t surprise you.”
“No.”
“You work for me. We’re a Special Activities Group.”
“Special Activities?”
“Our mission is wide and varied. Off the books.”
“Did Grayson know?”
Ross shook his head. “What have you told Tyson?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“What have you discussed?”
“He's been trying to help me put the pieces together.”
"Has he been successful?”
"You keep asking the same thing, and I keep telling you I have no recollection of my past.”
"I'm sorry. I know this is difficult. I just need to assess your status.”
"You need to determine if I'm a threat,” I said.
"You're no doubt aware that deep down inside, you possess sensitive information. Information that some would go to great lengths to get.”
"Nobody's getting any information from me," I assured.