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She slept daintily, with her mouth closed. Yet, she wasn’t totally relaxed. Her jaw was set as if she might have her teeth together. And one hand grabbed the corner of the sheet, fingers clenched tight.
He was still worried about the lump on her head but she certainly wasn’t showing any signs of concussion. Her speech was clear, her pupils the same. Still, she should probably be checked in the night.
It was still blowing outside. That would slow the Mercedes Men down. But they would be back. He wasn’t concerned for his own safety. One against four were reasonable odds for a SEAL. But his attention would be diverted by her. And that could prove fatal.
When she woke up, he was going to force her to come clean. Once he had the story, he’d know what to do.
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, remembering that mango was one of his favorite fruits. A little tart. Juicy. Delicious.
Damn.
Two hours later, he gently rolled over and bumped into her, his knee to her hip. She shifted but didn’t wake up. He reached up and turned on the light.
“Hey,” she said. She turned to look at him. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone sleepy, yet coherent.
“Just had to use the head,” he lied. He looked at her eyes. Pupils still looked good. Her color was fine. “Go back to sleep,” he said, turning off the light.
She was quiet for several minutes but he could tell by her breathing that she was agitated. He wasn’t surprised when she suddenly sat up in bed.
“You did not have to use the bathroom.”
“I didn’t?” he asked with deliberate surprise. “That’s rather personal, isn’t it?”
“You woke me up on purpose.”
“Why would I do that? So I could have this lovely conversation?” He rolled over and gave her his back.
She waited a full minute before she shoved his shoulder. “You were worried about the bump on my head.” She paused. “That was nice of you,” she added somewhat grudgingly.
He smiled. “Good night, Stormy.”
* * *
SHE LAY IN BED, covers up to her neck, relaxed for the first time. She knew it was because she’d finally let down her guard. Cal had had multiple opportunities to harm her and he’d taken none of them. Instead, he’d disturbed his own sleep to wake her up and make sure that she didn’t have a concussion.
He was smart, cocky, a little brash. Sexy in his blue jeans and forest-green Henley shirt.
He reminded her a little of a lounging tiger. Relaxed yet ready to pounce. He moved with quiet confidence.
She envied that. She didn’t have any confidence right now.
But maybe by morning. She closed her eyes and let the sleep come.
The next thing she knew, strong hands gripped her shoulders. Half-asleep, old instincts kicked in. She wrenched her body sideways, attempting to fight.
But she couldn’t budge her attacker.
She opened her eyes, saw Cal on his knees, straddling her.
It was several more terror-filled seconds before she processed what was going on. She forced herself to breathe, to clear her head. He was holding her, not hurting her, simply trying to avoid getting hurt himself. She looked at the bedcovers. They were in a tangled heap, wrapped around her legs.
“What day is it?” she demanded.
That surprised him. “It’s Wednesday. Why?”
She let out a breath. “I needed to know if it was Saturday.”
“Because?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But she saw the determined look on his face, knew that he wanted answers. “I had a bad dream,” she said.
“You think?” he asked, his tone tense. His big body hovered over her, his weight off her but his presence immense.
While bedcovers and layers of clothes separated them, their closeness was suddenly intensely intimate. And disconcerting as hell to go from something horrible, like her dream, to something that offered a promise of being good, very good.
Breathe, she told herself.
“I think you scared ten years off my life,” he said, his tone a little easier now.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
He moved fast, swinging one leg over so that he was kneeling beside her. His hazel eyes looked troubled. “Want to talk about it?”
Could she? Could she go back to that dark place? Could she pretend that it had just been an oddly disturbing dream?
Could she trust this man who had barged into her room and taken up more than his share of the bed?
He’d saved her life.
Had doubled back to let her know about the men looking for her. She looked at him closer. He had a red mark on his face. He hadn’t had it the night before. “What happened there?” she asked, already suspecting the truth.
“You’ve got a strong right hook,” he said nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, you popped me one at about the same time you started screaming. It was a bit disconcerting for a minute.”
Someone with less control might have killed her by mistake in response.
“I was lying on a bed,” she said. “It was narrow, more like a cot.”
He nodded.
“I wanted to get up, knew I needed to get away. But my wrists were tied to the bed frame. I pulled and pulled but it was no use.”
“Who tied you there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It...it looked like a ghost. All white.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I know, crazy, right?” she said.
“Nope. Did the ghost talk to you?”
She thought for a minute. He had. She knew that. Couldn’t remember what he’d said. “I’m not sure.”
“What else do you remember?”
She pointed to the garbage can in the corner. “That was hanging in the corner of the room.”
“The wedding dress?” he asked.
“Yes.” She’d been scared of the dress but she could hardly admit that. There was something else and she tried desperately to recall it but it was out of her reach.
“Do you remember anything else?”
“I was sick. The ghost made me so sick.”
He seemed to consider that. “You were screaming when you woke up. Why?”
“The ghost had come in and something bad was going to happen.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But it was bad. I started screaming. And then...I guess I woke up.”
He seemed to consider his words. “You have marks on your wrists,” he said. “Like you’ve been restrained.”
He was pointing out the obvious. She could ignore it, dismiss it. Or she could take the risk, leave herself absolutely exposed. If she didn’t, she’d be all alone. “So you’re saying that maybe it wasn’t just a dream?”
“You tell me,” he said, his voice intense.
She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Maybe at the beginning.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? “Well, that was sometime before I met you. How long before, I’m not quite sure.”
“That’s a little confusing,” he said.
She sat up in bed and pushed a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know why but I am. The problem is, I don’t think I can get myself out of it.”
“Because?”
“Because I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know who else is involved. I don’t know how big this is but something tells me it’s big. Really big. And that terrifies me. I don’t know who the bad guys are. I don’t know what they want.” She took a breath.
“Okay. Anything else you don’t know?”
She nodded. This was the hardest part. “When I looked in the mirror yesterday, I didn’t recognize myself. Not because my hair was different or anything dumb like that. I didn’t know who the woman in the mirror was.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know who I am.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_3f2be768-6105-53ae-9ce5-5007458aee94)
“I knew Mary Smith was bogus,” he said.
Her dark eyes got big. “That’s it? That’s it?” she repeated, her voice rising. “I tell you that I don’t know who I am and all you can say is ‘I knew Mary Smith was bogus.’ Of course it was bogus. I. Don’t. Know. My. Name.”
“And you’re pretty freaked out about it,” he said.
Now she gave him a look that would have made most people run for the door. It made him want to smile but he resisted. If he didn’t watch out, she’d land another punch.
“A little,” she said sarcastically.
“I get that,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s helpful for both of us to be freaked out. And I’ve been around a few people who have had short-term memory loss. It comes back.”
She didn’t say anything for a long minute. “But what if it doesn’t?”
And that simple question, asked in a small voice, pulled at his gut more than any full-blown tantrum could.
“You can’t worry about that. Right now, you need to focus on staying safe.” He meant that. While he was trying really hard to be calm, listening to her talk about some ghost that scared her and tied her to a bed had made him sick.
“You woke up asking the day of the week. Saturday seemed important. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, frustration in her tone. “In my dream, I knew that something very bad was going to happen on Saturday. That I had to stop it.”
“Something bad to you?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “This is going to sound crazy but even now that I’m awake, just saying the word Saturday makes my heart rate kick up in my chest.”
“Okay. It’s just Wednesday. If something bad is going to happen on Saturday, we’ve got a couple days. I think our best bet now is to get the hell out of Dodge,” he said.
“We? Our?” she repeated. “This isn’t your problem.”
No, it wasn’t. But he’d made his decision on that the minute he’d circled back to warn her about the Mercedes Men. “I’m between jobs right now so I’ve got some time on my hands.”
She stared at him. He could read the questions in her eyes. She wanted to trust him but with no memory to guide her, she probably felt that any value judgment she might make was suspect. “What was your job?” she said finally.
“Navy SEAL for eight years. Got my discharge papers six months ago.”
“So you haven’t worked since then?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I signed on for more of the same with a private contractor. The money was really good but—” he paused “—I’m just ready for something else.” There was no need to tell her that he’d come home to have a conversation with his brother, a conversation that was probably going to be difficult for both of them.
“What brought you to Missouri?” she asked.
“Family. I was raised about a hundred miles from here in a small town. Ravesville. Ever heard of it?”
“No.” Her cheeks got pink. “At least I don’t think I have.”
He shrugged. “No worries. Don’t try to force it.”
She shook her head. “There are men looking for me. And I don’t have any idea why. That’s pretty frightening.”
