FORGOTTEN MEMORIES
None of her training prepares astronaut Natasha Stark for what she wakes up to three weeks after her groundbreaking space voyage: a target on her backâand no memories. But thereâs something oddly familiar about the FBI agent who rescues her. Christopher Barton canât believe he drew the mission of safeguarding his long-ago fiancée and her daughterâa child he has every reason to believe is his. To learn the truth, though, he has to help Natasha regain her memory. But with threats mounting against the family he hopes to join, Chris is running out of time to take down the assailants before they kill the woman he never forgot and the child he never knew existed.
Natasha couldnât hold back the fear.
But she refused to cry at seeing her second dead crew member. âThat could have been me,â she said, turning away from the body as she recalled the gunshots fired at her and the explosion at her home.
âIâm not going to let that happen to you. I promise.â
The funny thing was, she believed Chris. She didnât know him, but there was something about him...something familiar, comforting, like the touch of his fingertips against her skin. Or was her scrambled brain imagining things?
Chris pulled away, and the moment was over. âIâm calling a team over. We need to mobilize as many resources as we can to get this figured out.â
âGood plan.â Sheâd delve into her hazy memories of this man another time. There were more important things to deal with right now. âWe need to warn the other crew before itâs too late.â
The front window blew out, shattered by a bullet, and glass exploded at them.
She got the message, loud and clear: it was already too late.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for spending a little slice of your holidays with Chris and Natasha! Youâre probably wondering about the Orion space program that features in this storyâis the race to Mars a real thing? Sure is! NASAâs Orion program is real, and itâs under way, though I accelerated the timeline here for the sake of story. But you can read all about it on NASAâs website and elsewhere online.
Those of you whoâve read Outside the Law will likely recognize Natashaâs last name. Sheâs the niece of a dastardly character from that book, but she has worked hard to make a name for herself in a typically male-dominated field. I believe that as long as weâre following Godâs leading in our lives, we can accomplish great things. Sometimes it will require leaning on a trusted team for support. Sometimes it will mean sacrifice. But when weâre inside Godâs will, our lives are forever changed.
I love hearing from readers. Find me on Twitter (@_MichelleKarl_) or at michellekarl.com and let me know if youâre having a snowy or sunny Christmas. Have a merry Christmas and happy New Year, friends!
Blessings,
Michelle
MICHELLE KARL is an unabashed bibliophile and romantic suspense author. She lives in Canada with her husband and an assortment of critters, including a codependent cat and an opinionated parrot. When sheâs not reading and consuming copious amounts of coffee, she writes the stories sheâd like to find in her âto be readâ pile. She also loves animals, world music and eating the last piece of cheesecake.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
âPsalms 8:3â4
For Dave, Micah and Dad, who get the joke.
ONE
The nameplate on the gold bracelet that circled her wrist read Natasha. She winced at the sharp pain that split the back of her skull as she moved into a seated position and twisted the shiny chain, searching for somethingâanythingâthat might provide a clue as to what she was doing lying by the side of the road with a gun in her hand.
A gun! She scrambled backward in the dirt, leaving the weapon behind. A rumble in the distance told her a car was headed her way. Should she leave the gun there or throw it into the ditch?
Where am I? It felt as though her entire head was on fire, and black spots clouded her vision when she turned to try to take in her surroundings. What little she could make out didnât help: a long road, grass on either side, trees along the edge of the grass. She sniffed the air but didnât smell anything beyond lingering exhaust fumes, dirt and copper. Copper?
Warmth blossomed along the right side of her temple, a thicker and more concentrated heat than the sunâs rays beating down overhead during this unusually warm afternoon. Where was she? What day was it? What month, for that matter? No one with any sense would be lying outside midday in the heat and humidity, regardless of the location or time of year. She lifted her hand to the side of her head and touched something hot and sticky. Alarm shot through her insides as her fingers pulled back, slick with deep, crimson blood.