As soon as Kevin asked him to safeguard his sister, Jonah Sogard knew where he would go. His family had a cabin in the mountains. They barely used it anymore, but Jonah’s father kept it for special occasions or just as a place to unwind after a mission or burnout. The cabin was multi-leveled and made entirely of logs. As he breathed in the fresh mountain air he remembered how much he used to love it up here.

The ride up the mountainous terrain took most of the night. Faith was curled up in the passenger seat. She hadn’t stirred since they snaked through the tunnels to an exit near Big Ben.

Jonah was continuing to have a hard time taking it all in. The danger was great, but Jonah knew it wasn’t the danger that was getting to him. It was the woman. Every now and then he would glance over at her watching as the street lights sliced angles of white light over her face.

She was beautiful. There was no doubt about that.

Somehow he knew if he didn’t keep his distance from her his heart would quickly be in dire jeopardy.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. He loved women. Loved the way they felt. The way they tasted. But this woman in particular had him spooked. It was as if she had an uncanny power over him he couldn’t pull free from. The funniest thing of all was, she had yet to acknowledge his existence.

He had unknowingly been searching for a casual relationship. Someone to fill the darker hours with. But he knew if he got involved with little Faith it would be anything but casual. She was the type of woman that made a man think of forever – and seriously consider it.

She moaned softly and altered her position on the seat. The sound had him wondering what she would sound like when he kissed her. Would she sound exactly like that or would she make a special noise reserved only for him?

That was on his mind as he carried her inside the cabin and tucked her into one of the upstairs rooms. He hoped she slept soundly until morning. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to a fight in the middle of the night. Because once she opened those pretty little eyes, there would be hell to pay. He knew it, and Kevin knew it.

Jonah’s eyes sagged as he stepped through the doorway to his own room and collapsed on the bed. It took considerable effort once lying down to remove his clothing, but once that was accomplished he succumbed to the bliss of sleep.

Hours later, a piercing sound ripped through him faster than any alarm clock. It took him a second to gage his surroundings and remember where he was and exactly where that scream could be coming from. He hauled his body into the next room. His feet didn’t pound on the wood surface of the floor. He had learned to enter a room quietly. He did it now by instinct.

The scream was coming from the bed. Oblivious to the fact he was wearing nothing but briefs, he rocketed to Faith’s bedside. Her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming. He knew from previous experience with his two brothers that you didn’t wake someone from a dream. He didn’t want the impressions to remain with her once she waked. He had already decided he would calm her down by reassuring her that she was safe and protected.

He held her close to his chest. The smell of gardenia’s lingered from her shampoo. The scent was erotically intoxicating. He pulled his concentration into focus and dipped his head to whisper into her ear. It wasn’t sweet nothings he whispered but reassurances. She wasn’t alone. He was there.

“You’re safe, Faith,” Jonah murmured, moving his calloused hand down her soft black hair. “You’re safe and I am there with you, protecting you. Can’t you see me?” He could feel her head nod. “You don’t have to scream anymore, okay?” She nodded again and the screams ceased.

She had scared the living hell out of him. “Come on, honey,” he said, softly. “Let go of the dream and wake up now. You can do it. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here.”

Faith drew in a long breath but it took several minutes for her to realize she was awake and that someone was holding her.

Jonah could feel her eyelashes flutter against his neck.

He didn’t know whether to be glad or run for cover. But before either could happen, he drunk in the sensation of holding her against his body. Maybe this memory would make the reaming he was about to receive worth it.

Drums were beating in the distance. The farther he walked away from the infirmary, the louder the thumping became until Ethan Fairchild realized the sensation was coming from inside his own head. The pain was excruciating. Images blurred before him as the night darkened and doubles superimposed over reflections cast by street lights pooling in a dot pattern down the street.

Somehow he blindly made his way back to his apartment. He sought it much like a homing pigeon. He merely could sense it was there even if he couldn’t see it. He hadn’t been walking in any particular direction. He only had wanted to get away.

When the fog cleared partly from his mind and he found himself pressing a gun to Michela’s skull – words couldn’t express the horror flowing through his veins. His body temperature must have dropped five degrees because his skin felt encased in ice.

Ethan had killed many times, in many ways, but he had never before tried to murder someone he had once cared about, loved.

He was surprised to find the gun still clutched in his hand. It was a miracle he hadn’t been picked up by a cop during his disjointed journey home. He had initially felt the instinct to drop the gun once the foggy veil lifted from his eyes, but somehow it managed to remain with him. He dropped the gun on the carpet. It felt foreign to him now.

As he discarded his clothes and curled up naked in bed, Ethan had the overwhelming need to feel Michela’s body spooned in front of his. Even though outwardly he denied wanting her, Ethan could no longer negate the need of her presence in his life. In the back of his mind, he knew he wanted happily ever after. He wanted children. He wanted a home. All he wanted to know now was if that home would be with her.

The image of Michela stayed with him until he gave into the exhaustion caused by the AI.

The sensors were going crazy. Philip Lancaster paced back and forth in his office contemplating what to do. He gazed down into the computer bay below and watched as the lights danced across the keyboards and monitors.

If Ian Fairchild had truly slipped past security, it was obvious that someone wasn’t doing their job. He was damn well going to make sure it wasn’t blamed on him. With Gia Doyle otherwise disposed lying in a coma in the Legacy infirmary, it was up to him to assume command.

Philip started to enter the notification code into the computer indicating Gia’s absence when a shadow filled the doorway to his left. He glanced over his shoulder to identify the subtle noise that sounded like shifting fabric.

His eyes didn’t blink as he took in the presence filling the doorway. He wasn’t surprised to see the man. In fact, Philip had expected him to show up long before now.

“Thinking of making yourself the one and only almighty Legacy God?” The man in the doorway asked.

Philip’s finger hesitated over the enter key. One jerky movement and it would all be his. The power. The glory. But Philip knew the man filling the doorway too well. He knew he would eventually come to regret his decision. The big man would make him regret it. Carefully, he pulled his hand away from the keyboard and exited out of the program.

“That was a smart move,” the man said, nodding his approval.

“It was my only move.”

Philip opened a red box and drew a cigar from its depths. “I thought, hell, why should I have to deal with your kid by-passing security? It should be a family matter, right?”

“I agree.”

Philip lit the cigar and a stream of cloudy smoke circled above his head. An expression painted his face that spoke volumes. It was relief. He was glad to have the old man back in the driver’s seat.

“So, Franklin, why don’t you turn all those damn buzzers off?”

“I’m glad to know you’re taking your dethronement well.”

Another stream of smoke poured out of his mouth and hovered near the ceiling. “Better dethroned than dead, I always say.”

Kevin Fairchild worked at his computer screen well into the night. The dark obscurity was broken only by the hum of the laptop secreted to him by trusty Boswell Chapman. He knew his eyes were hooded in an exhausted stare. He barely felt capable of keeping them open any longer. But something in the Legacy database drew his curiosity. He felt compelled to continue his search. Anything, even the most minute detail could free him.

An accidental left turn had Kevin’s eyes widening in interest. The words scrolling before him wouldn’t buy him a get out of jail free card, but they were words he needed to know.

The memo he had found was from Chandelor Knight. The man in the ivory tower. The memo explained how the Knights Foundation was slowly narrowing down the Legacy staff to only trusted ‘knights’ of the realm. He didn’t come to a complete understanding of the word ‘knights’ until later – about fifty pages later. Knights, as in, Knights of the Round Table. Camelot. King Arthur.

The man must be insane, Kevin mused.

He thought he might burst out laughing if he wasn’t so stunned. Chandelor claimed to be a direct descendant of King Arthur, the legendary king of Camelot. That wasn’t all. The kicker was he wanted, no, he expected the bulk of his staff to be descended from the original Knights of the Round Table!

Only a few names mentioned in the list were not descendants, most of the agents were in some way related to the days of Camelot. The document had links to complete directories and family trees for nearly everyone on staff.

But that wasn’t all.

According to the document, there were many concerns facing the Knights Foundation, one of which was corruption on every level of the covert agency. There were lists of adverse behavior and details about how the agency had lost its heart, and its search for truth and justice.

Chandelor wanted his so-called knights to have honor, a moral code of ethics, things with which tradition would expect.

What he wanted was impossible. Men weren’t like that any more. They didn’t sacrifice themselves for the good of the realm or for their leader. For most, it was all they could do to fend for themselves.

Kevin almost threw the computer across the room in frustration. None of it made any sense. The man was talking like they were in medieval England not the twenty-first century.

He was no knight. Kevin knew he was far from a perfect example of virtue or honor, but somehow his name was on Chandelor’s list of the trusted along with Ethan, Gia, Janette, and Julian. The name of his mortal enemy blinked at him. Why would Chandelor Knight trust someone as low down and dirty as Julian Black? He was not only the head of a known terrorist organization, but someone they all had been fighting for nearly twenty years!

But that wasn’t the only shocker. Of those Chandelor wanted removed from the agency, one was his own step-father, Franklin Fairchild!

Sounds and sensors swirled around him, but Ian Fairchild was oblivious to it all. All he could concentrate on was the flood of memories falling back into his brain. It deluged him with a pain so intense, he had to find a dark room to block out the light. That was how he found himself wandering in the tunnels under Legacy Headquarters. He was like a rat searching for a place to hide, to escape.

The memories made him realize that things before his death had not been too great. But it was the time frame that mocked him. He had lost three years. Three years of his life. The last image he remembered from that time long ago was two strong hands clutching his throat, squeezing the life out of him, constricting his air flow. After that, nothing but blackness.

When he opened his eyes and saw Faith he thought he had been transported back to that black moment in his life. The one he wanted to forget and tried to forget. But, the memories came forth of their own volition. He had no control over them.

He could only watch and remember.

The cabin outside Smith Island was little more than servants quarters during medieval times. Ian had transformed the small shack into a posh bachelor pad through hours of back breaking sweat and love. The woodwork was all hand crafted. Not by the finest artisans but by his own two hands. He took pride in creating a piece of molding from a bare lifeless portion of lumber. Even the large swing hanging on the porch was of his own design. It was something that only he could do. He had been linked to Ethan for so many years sometimes people thought they were only one person instead of two. So having something that was essentially ‘his’ made his heart sing.

If anything, working in the cabin with the wood chips and dust helped keep his mind off of Faith. He had been such a fool. Getting involved with her had been probably the biggest mistake he had ever made. She was seventeen years younger than him and grew up as if she was his sister. They had tried to convince themselves they were just siblings, but the chemistry between them kept pushing them together. Neither one of them could stop what had initially happened.

They had been alone in the castle making popcorn and watching some horror flick on television. And laughing. He could remember the laughing. It felt good to laugh because the mission he had come off of was anything but humourous. The laughing had helped.

She did the funniest impression of Jerry Lewis he had ever seen and knocked the large bowl of popcorn to the floor. The bowl flew through the air and landed on top of the animal head mounted on the other side of the room. Somehow as the bowl was en route shooting across the room, everything ceased to be funny.

Faith slipped on the spilled popcorn and Ian caught her. Her body pressed against his sending them both to the floor. The smiles on their faces slid into something primal. He could feel his heart beating and her heart beating. It was a feeling neither of them understood but both couldn’t deny any longer.

He had promised himself only a kiss. One kiss. Then he would break the contact, he had to. This was at the top of the list of wrong things to do.

As his lips feathered across hers, her moan of surrender broke his will and Ian gave into the moment. It was the first and only time they had ever made love. The next day they agreed it had been a mistake and wouldn’t give into the chemistry again.

Ian didn’t want to give himself a reason to touch her and had Philip give him an assignment as soon as he walked into the office that day.

Two weeks later, he returned home in the middle of the night. He by-passed the main house not wanting to disturb the others and slipped into his cabin unnoticed. At least, he thought he had been unnoticed.

By the time he undressed and stretched out on the bed a figure lurked in his doorway. She was drenched from the rain pelting the brick walkway. Faith stood there watching him. He didn’t know how long she had been there but he assumed long enough to have watched him undress. Her eyes were darkened with desire. He knew that look. He felt it contort his own face each time he glanced her way. Now it was staring back at him, willing him to approach.

He was ready to send her away when lightening illuminated the night sky. It was only then he noticed the way the material had molded to her body which was now nearly transparent leaving nothing to hide.

She started toward him while he struggled to retain the last of his self control. The closer she got the faster that control evaporated until she was in his arms once again. He knew he was lost the moment he touched her. She wanted him, her body told him as much, it quivered beneath his fingers.

“I missed you,” she whispered before claiming his mouth with her own.

He groaned and pressed her closer. God help him, he had missed her too. He returned the kiss with a vengeance struggling to remove the wet nightgown from her body. His clothes had already been discarded so she took advantage and kissed his chest and neck.

“Off. Take it off,” she whispered, the heat evident in her voice.

She was only sixteen. How could she be so erotic? The intensity caused him to rip at the fabric which tore splitting at the seam. Her hands roamed everywhere on his body. As his mouth claimed hers again, he growled and slammed her down on the bed harder than he had intended. But she didn’t cry out, she kissed him more savagely.

That night had redefined the meaning of the word love to him. He needed her with an intensity he couldn’t control. Wanted her so badly he thought he’d die if he couldn’t have her. Ian knew all the logical reasons they couldn’t be together. They were seventeen years apart in age not to mention she had been raised as his sister though not one drop of similar blood flowed between them.

He devoured her mouth accidently drawing blood and her fingers scratched similar trails down his back. That night, as the wind pounded and the storm raged, he knew he had found what he had been searching for, a soul mate.

But that dream of completion was soon to be ripped away from him.

The dark image of Julian Black silhouetted the doorway. His dark hair matted against his head shining like a demon with every lightening strike. Ian had never asked himself how a man like Julian, head of a known terrorist organization, had so easily evaded the Legacy security. But now, as he remembered, he wondered. Smith Island was a main Legacy stronghold armed to the gills with guards and weapons. It should have been safe from the likes of Julian Black.

Ian laughed at the irony of his situation. Julian thought he was attacking Faith. Who wouldn’t? Her mouth was bleeding and the scratches on his back could be construed as fighting him off. He couldn’t completely blame the guy for what happened next.

Her hands stilled as Julian entered the cabin and her eyes grew amazingly wide. Ian remembered the impact of her palms against his chest as she pushed him away. That should have been a sign of what was to come, but Ian had been an idealist back then. He foolishly believed love conquered all. He truly thought Julian might understand the connection he and Faith shared.

But Julian Black’s actions were far from understanding. The gruff voice was hard and unrelenting. “Did he hurt you?” Julian asked Faith.

She shook her head but the big man took it as a nod and came after him. All his Legacy training couldn’t prepare him for the onslaught of rage emitting from Julian. Ian tried to escape. He didn’t understand what was happening. Julian’s large hands closed around his neck pressing his thumbs against his windpipe.

As unconsciousness threatened to overtake him, Ian glanced one more time at Faith. She stood stony not far from where Julian was killing him. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no move to assist him. No cry to tell Julian he had been wrong. They were together now. Blackness overcame him, but not before the knowledge hit him that Faith had been using him.

The Legacy tunnels came to an end near Big Ben. All he wanted was an explanation. Why? Even though she still stirred things inside him, Ian knew he would not give in again no matter how much he wanted to. Not this time.

In time he would find out what he needed to know and disappear for good.

Somewhere during his journey through the tunnels of his memory, Ian came to the knowledge that he was in love with Faith. She had betrayed him, had watched her uncle kill him, and yet the feelings for her were still there. Ian couldn’t believe he had been such a fool. Not only had she been responsible for killing him once, she tried to do it again – this time personally!

For a while he considered winning her back, but all he could think of now was exposing her and her lies. Then he could move on. Loving her had cost him his life. He wondered how hard it would be to lose her a second time.

Declan O’Connor helped Michela Forsythe deal with Octavia Kassoff’s body in the best way they knew how. They dumped her in an adjoining room. It might not have been the safest place for her, but at least Michela knew the woman would be safe.

Once that was completed, Declan tried to get Michela to open up to him. He wanted to help her.

It was sweet that he was worried, but now wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do, a job that had been wiped from her mind with the Nightingale programing. She remembered it all now. Ethan’s presence in her room tonight had brought it all back in crystal clarity. The route to Ethan’s apartment came to her as easily as lying to Declan had. When she couldn’t find the key in its normal hiding spot, she jimmied the lock and let herself in. His apartment looked the same as it always had, barely lived in.

She stealthily made her way up to his loft bedroom.

They had to talk.

He was beautiful lying there in sleep. His face seemed younger without the mask he usually donned for the spy game. She roused him from sleep with a kiss. She couldn’t help herself. Her lips feathered against his temple then down to his cheek. The slight pressure was comfortable and electric at the same time. It felt like coming home. How could she have forgotten so much?

“Wake up,” she said softly, moving her lips from his cheek against his mouth. She kissed him again and he responded by pulling her into his embrace.

“God, you feel good – even if it is only a dream.” Ethan muttered the words with his eyes still closed. He thought he was dreaming.

Ethan was still groggy from sleep. His body felt leaden. He could hear the voice tempting him to get up. His eyes opened but the world seemed tilted and foggy. The voice grew more insistent.

“Dammit, wake up!”

This time she made her plea more adamant. She bit the inside of his lower lip. He growled and pulled away. “Dammit!” His eyes whipped open and held hers with the desire building in their depths.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, sharply.

Hands shook and slapped him. It was then he realized who the voice belonged to.

“Janette?” The name ripped from his throat before he could substitute it for the name he had come to know her by – Michela.

As the minutes drew on, the world became more distinct. The fog in his mind cleared and he could see her sitting on the edge of his bed. She looked haunted. Tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” The events of the previous night had yet to surface.

She choked out a laugh that sounded like a sob. “You mean other than the fact that you tried your best to kill me tonight?”

Ethan cringed. He had hoped that had been only a dream. It was turning into a nightmare.

“I wasn’t myself. I can’t explain it.”

She laughed again. If it wasn’t so tragic, it would be funny. “You weren’t yourself. I wasn’t myself. What’s wrong with the two of us?”

Ethan could see something else was bothering her. Something far removed from the fact that he had nearly ended her life.

“When I woke up, you said ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ Tell you what, Janette?” Ethan brushed his hand down the side of her face. It had been so long since he had been with her like this. Real. Just the two of them. No lies. No mission. Just them. Together.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was Janette Ambrose?” A sob escaped her throat and she laid her head on his naked chest.

“I thought you knew.”

Her head drew up abruptly. “What?”

“Just what I said. I thought you knew you were Janette Ambrose. But I could sense something was different. Something changed after my father died. It was like you truly believed you were this woman.” Ethan held her and didn’t let go.

“I did.” She glanced at him warily. “Something did happen. I don’t know. It’s all a jumble. I was doing surveillance. Your father left his flat, went down to post something...” Janette grappled for the right words. “Someone hit me from behind. Your father knew Chandelor Knight was onto him.”

Ethan’s eyes darkened with concern.

“Your father isn’t the man you think he is, Ethan. He was going to use me as poetic justice. He found out about the three of us: you, me, and Julian.”

“He knew about Julian?” Ethan was astounded. That was one secret that was kept under tighter wraps than Fort Knox.

“Knows about Julian.” She stressed the word with more emphasis than she needed. “Ethan, your father isn’t dead.”

She knew how bad this could get. “Julian is in danger. We’re all in danger. If he could program me with an assassin’s memories in order to kill Julian. I wouldn’t put it past him to use you to kill me. Just like you tried tonight.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Like I said, poetic justice.”

“I would never kill you, Janette. You know that.” Ethan’s hand shook as he leaned his head against hers.

“You did a pretty good impression of it tonight.”

A tear escaped and ran down his face. She wiped it away. “Better watch out. Don’t want me thinking you aren’t as macho as you make yourself out to be.”

“Why don’t you hate me? Scream at me? Something, dammit!” Ethan’s voice grew in decibel.

“How can I blame you? We were all used by your father. Now Julian’s life is in jeopardy as well. If they find out he was a plant from the beginning – years of our lives would have been wasted.”

“Did you tell the man in the tower all this?”

Janette nodded. Ethan wondered how much longer he would have to call her Michela.

“He knows. Chandelor is sending word to Julian now.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for him, for Chandelor. Too many years, almost a lifetime, he had pretended to hate his son with the vengeance of a bitter enemy.” Ethan shook his head. “Chandelor hated it when Julian took this assignment. Infiltrate the Black Council from the bottom up.”

Janette snaked her arms around Ethan’s chest. It was almost over and soon they would be able to get on with their lives.

“We all hated it,” Janette whispered, holding onto Ethan like there was no tomorrow. “He is your best friend.”

“And your husband.”

Over the years, Ian had become particularly good at impersonating his brother, Ethan. The fact that he was identical to his sibling had little to do with it. Ian was an actor, a chameleon. He took pride in his ability to melt into any situation without notice. His striking good looks were rarely a problem. He knew how to slip behind a facade so well that he almost seemed able to change the planes in his face just by willing it.

His quick mind and perfect memory had always been his greatest asset. Now he cursed that perfect memory. Every day it reminded him of Faith’s deception, her betrayal.

It took no time to travel from Big Ben down the London streets back to Legacy Headquarters. As the beepers wailed and lights flashed, Ian pretended to be his brother, Ethan, concerned that the mad man had broken into the complex.

The bumblers at the first checkpoint rushed him through security without the normal protocol that would have proven he wasn’t who he claimed to be.

As he rushed through the endless corridors, he stumbled upon people talking about his other brother, Kevin. It hadn’t taken long to discover that Kevin had been arrested for Gia’s shooting. He was only now feeling clear about what exactly had happened. Drugs from the procedure his father had put him through in the Bulgarian Underground marred his perfect memory riddling it with holes. At the time, he thought he had been dreaming about Faith screaming and Gia’s body slumping to the floor.

His heart clutched. He had left Gia there to die.

It wasn’t a dream.

Ian began to entertain the notion that he might be the monster they all thought him to be. A few minutes later Ian found himself in the Legacy Infirmary standing over Gia’s prone body. The stark white walls almost glowed. It was unusual seeing her bathed in so much light. He had always thought of her as a night woman.

He brushed the hair from her forehead and groaned. This was all his fault. She had been shot because Faith had wanted him dead. His mind traveled back to the last few days with Gia. She knew what they all claimed he was, yet she still chose to get involved with him. She had let him touch her. Make love to her. It was a memory he would always cherish.

As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, he whispered, “In another lifetime, I could have loved you.”

He pressed his forehead into hers. “I can’t believe you willingly gave yourself to me.” Ian paused as he watched Gia breathe. He knew she was going to live. “But you don’t want a man like me, sweet one. A man who can’t forget.” He pressed his lips to her cheek before walking out the door.

His choked up whisper followed him through the room, “I’m sorry.”

Ian hadn’t made it far before the events of the last few years broke him down. He found himself in the vending area sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall.

What in the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t get Faith out of his mind. He had been out of his skull in love with her. He had been in the kind of love he didn’t think possible for a man like himself. Ian Fairchild had never been a paragon of virtue, but Faith had knocked him for a loop.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Faith had been the one to initially start the sexual advance. The memories wouldn’t stop haunting him. Her body. Her lips. Her – everything. But he wouldn’t let it control him again. He couldn’t afford to. He didn’t want a repeat performance of what had happened the first time. Julian had killed him.

They all thought Black had killed him, and in a way, they were right. Ian had died for all of twenty minutes. His heart stopped beating in the helicopter and he wasn’t revived until he reached the emergency room. According to the hospital staff, he was a medical miracle. Even the doctors who had saved him couldn’t believe he was alive.

Ian had been given a second chance.

Sometimes he wondered why this was happening to him. Maybe he had been better off dead, or in the three year coma doctors had initiated. Both were preferable to the living hell he was enduring now. If he was at least dead, the pain wouldn’t be so all consuming, so fiercely pounding in his chest. It was the pain of losing her that clutched his heart.

In that instant, Ian Fairchild made a rash decision.

He had to get away. Get away from London and the Legacy – and Faith. He couldn’t take the pain any more.